


Infinity Mirror

by DisasterCat



Series: Infinity Mirror [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, POV Catra (She-Ra)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2019-10-18 00:51:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterCat/pseuds/DisasterCat
Summary: How might the course of events have changed if Catra had gone with Adora when she returned to the Whispering Woods?A canon-divergent AU for those of us who like to obsessively overthink Catradora.





	1. Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks!  
> This fic came about because I started wondering if Adora would still have joined the Rebellion if Catra had been with her when she went back to look for the Sword. I think their dynamic is super complex and really interesting to explore.  
> Originally inspired by the Catradora Week Day 1 Prompt, it turned into this multi-chapter beast of a thing.  
> Told from Catra's POV, because this cat has a lot of feelings.

Dim evening closed in around the two of them, much like it had that night when everything started. Catra shifted slightly on the bed, careful not to jostle Adora.

_How did we get here? Were we always going to end up like this?_

Memories of that night came flooding viscerally to Catra as she listened carefully to Adora’s breathing, waiting for her to fall asleep…

***

Adora was restless, and it was very annoying. It was a wonder the rest of the barracks wasn’t woken by her thrashing and sleepy mumbling. The fall she took in the Whispering Woods earlier that day must really have shaken her— usually she slept deeply, her breathing a gentle, soothing lullaby. To Catra, the sound meant safety. Home.

It was a promise.

Now, Catra tried to get what sleep she could, down in her spot by the end of the bed, but Adora kept kicking her.

_Guilty conscience?_

It would be just like Adora to completely freak out after one unsanctioned adventure, especially now that she was about to be a Force Captain.

_That’s what she gets for crashing a skiff._

Adora kicked her again, muttering under her breath.

_OK fine. I crashed the skiff, but this is getting ridiculous._

Catra was considering the possible ramifications of sitting directly on top of Adora’s chest to keep her from moving when Adora started awake with a gasp. Catra stayed where she was, listening intently. Adora got very quiet, then shifted her weight slowly off the bed, probably going to the bathroom…Except the sound of her footsteps trailed off in the opposite direction.

Catra opened one eye.

_Does that buff idiot actually think she can sneak out without me noticing?_

Catra got up and padded quietly after her, feeling slightly offended.

She climbed into the rafters and watched as Adora deftly avoided several patrolling bots. Why was the golden child sneaking around in a secure area in the middle of the night? Unless…

 _Two joyrides in one day? Shadow Weaver must be right._ _I_ am _a bad influence on Adora._

Catra leapt down and crept behind the delinquent.

“Hey Adora!” she whisper-shouted, “Where are you—“

“Shhh!” She put a hand over Catra’s mouth. Catra flicked it away.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the woods. There’s something I need to figure out.”

Catra peered closely into Adora’s face. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird since we got back! Are you sure you’re not brain damaged?”

Adora cast her gaze away from Catra determinedly. “Look Catra, I know I saw something out there. I just need to get another look. It feels... important somehow.”

Sometimes Adora fixated on weird things. Catra had enough experience by now to know that it was better to just roll with it. “Sounds good. Let’s go!”

“No. I don’t want you getting in trouble on my behalf. Just cover for me, OK? I’ll be back before anyone knows I’m gone.” Adora began to hurry away towards the bay where the skiffs were stored.

_Yeah, right._

Catra landed with a satisfying _thud_ directly between Adora’s shoulder blades. Adora groaned quietly as she pushed Catra off and picked herself up from the floor. “Ow. What was that for?”

“For being an idiot. Come on, Adora, we both know I’ll get into trouble anyway.” She had intended it as a joke, but it rang just a little too true. They both winced. “I’m coming, too.”

“Ugh. Fine. But just let me drive the skiff this time please.”

**

Catra loved the way the wind outside the Fright Zone played through her hair. It made her feel wild. So did the scent of the Whispering Woods—a heavy, secretive smell, somehow purple. The woods themselves woke something primal in her—so many perches and places to climb, so many small, shadowed spaces to explore. Adora chuckled as Catra’s tail lashed.

“You actually like it out here, don’t you? It figures you’d enjoy the most terrifying place on Etheria.”

“Shut up. No I don’t.” Catra lifted her nose to sniff the air.

“Yeah, sure.”

She ignored the smug glance Adora directed towards her. “So what are we looking for, exactly?”

Adora stammered, her smirk disappearing. “I… um… it was a… I saw a sword… and there was this bright light…”

“Oooook… So we’re out here searching for your sanity?”

Adora’s face started to redden in the most delightful way. It really was too much fun to tease her. “No, Catra! It was real, and when I touched it…”

“When you touched it you turned into a Princess!”

“Now you’re just being stupid. When I touched it, I heard this voice, saw these visions. I…” Adora came close, taking her hand, “Catra, I think it has something to do with who I am, maybe… who my parents were?” They locked eyes for a long moment. How could Catra say no to that? And, for that matter, how could she say no to those big blue eyes that made her stomach flop so awfully and wonderfully?

Catra twined her fingers through Adora’s. "Ugh. Fine. If it’s that important, I will find this imaginary sword for you.”

**

Perhaps unsurprisingly, finding the imaginary sword proved quite difficult. Catra groaned as she pushed another heavy vine out of her face. The woods seemed less fun, now.

“Adora, we’ve been wandering around for hours!”

“No, we haven’t. It hasn’t been that long; you’re just getting bored. Besides, I think we must be close.”

“Don’t make me laugh. You have no idea where we—“ Catra forgot the rest of her sentence as she caught sight of a bright blue-white light cutting through the night-dark leaves and tree trunks. “Woah.”

“That must be it! Come on!”

“I don’t know about this…” Adora took her hand and tugged her towards the light.

It dimmed slightly as they came into a clearing, as if reacting to their presence. There, just as Adora had said it would be, was an enormous, shining sword caught up in the roots of a tree. The glow from the sword dazzled Catra’s eyes, but she twitched her ears at the crack and rustle of someone else approaching.

“Adora, be careful.” Adora paused, and they both instinctively moved into a defensive crouch, listening. As Catra unsheathed her claws, she saw Adora lift her fists, ready to throw a punch.

Whoever was coming their way was making no attempt at stealth.

“It’s clearly in this direction!”

“The tracker pad says otherwise!”

Two people crashed into the clearing. One, a young man with a bow strapped to his back, had his face buried in a beeping screen. The other was a young woman, much shorter than her companion, with shimmering purple hair and a searing scowl. She stopped short as she saw Catra and Adora, which made the boy behind her stop, as well. All four stared silently at each other for a moment.

“Horde soldiers!”

“I see them!”  

The companions both let out a wordless yell, then.

_What exactly is their strategy, here? Are they planning on screaming us into submission?_

Adora took the opportunity to dive towards the sword. Catra moved between her and the intruders.

“Bow!” screamed the purple one, “Don’t let her get the sword!”

Clearly they were here for a fight, so Catra decided to give them one. She sprang at the smaller woman, claws outstretched, anticipating the satisfying jolt of knocking her to the ground. Just as her feet were about to connect, the woman vanished in a pink cloud of sparkles.

_A princess._

Catra twisted her body expertly to land on her feet despite the surprise. The young man had nocked an arrow to his bow, and Catra deftly kicked the entire contraption out of his hands. She spun to see the princess reappear by the sword, which she snatched up seconds before Adora reached it.

_Nice trick._

“Bow, catch!” The princess tossed the sword with one arm as Adora grabbed the other. Catra leapt to meet the sword in midair. As she flew, she saw movement out of the corner of one eye. The boy—Bow—had taken up his weapon again, and he fired at her. The arrow opened into a rope net that snared both Catra and the sword and brought them to the ground. Catra scrabbled for the sword as the impact forced the air from her lungs, but it was caught behind her. She clawed the net to pieces instead, hissing angrily.

She freed herself just in time for Adora, Bow, and the princess to all dive at her in an attempt to reach the sword. All four tumbled together in a writhing mass of kicking legs, flailing arms, and one sorely abused tail.

Suddenly, the sword emitted a pure, white beam. The light seared Catra’s eyes, so bright that it overpowered not just her eyes this time, but her other senses as well, and for a moment she groped around her without sight, scent, or hearing.

Catra recovered before the others. She picked herself up from the rough ground. In the confusion, they had all tumbled away from each other. The archer and the princess lay groaning a few feet away. Adora lay close by, but… she wasn’t moving, wasn’t making a sound… nothing.

“Adora!” She dropped to her knees beside her, still trying to clear the remnants of the swordflash from her eyes. The sword itself lay in Adora’s hand, her fingers curled lightly around the golden hilt. “Adora, wake up!” She lifted Adora’s head. Was she breathing?

_Adora always said I should pay more attention in training. Surely I absorbed something that could help right now._

“Wh-What was that?” The purple one had come around. She wobbled to her feet and took a step towards Catra, the scowl back on her face. “What did you do?”

“How should I know?” Catra hissed, tapping gently at Adora’s cheek with one clawed hand. “Why won’t you wake up?”

“How did Horde soldiers get into the Whispering Woods, and what do you want with _our_ sword?” The princess continued, as the archer picked himself up and joined her.

_I don’t have time for this._

She paused in her frantic attempt to wake Adora to snatch the sword from her limp hand. She tossed the weapon carelessly towards the other two. “Take your stupid sword; I don’t care about it. My friend isn’t breathing!” Catra’s voice cracked, and her face burned with anger, embarrassment, and panic. She was nearly in tears.

The rebels were quiet for a moment. Then, the princess picked up the sword as the archer came to kneel on the other side of Adora.

“Bow, be careful. We can’t trust the Horde.”

“Come on, Glimmer, we have to see if we can help them.” The archer carefully placed one armored hand under Adora’s nose.

“Do we? This is clearly a trick. Since when have Horde soldiers ever had friends, anyway?”

“Look,” the young man said to Catra. Breath fogged the golden armor on his hand. “She’s breathing. She’s ok.”

As if his diagnosis was a magic spell, at that moment Adora’s eyes began to flutter open. Catra pushed the rebel away and put her face close to Adora’s.

“Adora would you stop passing out in the woods? It’s not good for my health.”

“Sorry, Catra. The sword…” she sat upright with Catra’s help and saw the princess holding the sword. “Give it back.”

Purple Girl’s scowl deepened. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s mine. I found it first. I’m… supposed to have it.”

“Adora,” Catra huffed, “it’s just a sword. Would you let it go? Let’s all just call this a draw and go home. Nobody else needs to get hurt.”

The sparkly one snorted. “Hah! Since when does the Horde not want to hurt anybody?”

“You’re one to talk, _princess_!” Adora spat the title venomously.

The princess looked like she was about to explode. It would have been comical, under other circumstances. “What?!!!”

The archer intervened, “Ok, how about everybody just calms down for a minute—“

They didn’t have the opportunity.

A massive insectoid creature crashed into the clearing at that moment. Catra had been so absorbed in making sure Adora was alright that she hadn’t even heard it approach. When it saw the four tiny (to it) figures, the creature reared up defensively on four of its deadly, pointed legs and let out a horrifying screech. Catra saw her own surprised face reflected in its rows of glassy eyes as the creature charged forward, legs churning and pincers clicking.

The group stood frozen for a moment, then burst into action. The princess—Glimmer?—grabbed the archer’s hand and disappeared in her cloud of sparkles. Catra heaved an unsteady Adora upright and managed to drag her just out of the path of the tank-sized insect.

“Catra, look!” Adora pointed to the spot they had just vacated, where, in her haste to teleport away, Glimmer had dropped the sword.

“Would you shut up about that stupid thing? We have a bigger problem on our hands right now!” Catra shouted as the insect reared and spun back towards them. It screeched again, the sound reverberating through the woods and making Catra’s ears feel ready to bleed. She pushed the still-unsteady Adora towards the nearest tree, unsheathed her claws, and faced the charging beast.

_I can do this…_

_Can I do this?_

The creature closed in, each of its eight sharp feet slashing divets into the ground and throwing up clods of earth and stone. Catra waited until she could see herself in its eyes again, not surprised this time, but cool, collected, and ready. She sprang up, twisting in midair to land lightly on top of the creature’s head, and she dug her claws in. She went for its eyes, gouging and slashing, her claws ringing as they clashed against the insect’s armor. She ripped and clawed as the animal reared again, screaming. In its angry pain, it overbalanced and tipped backwards. Catra sprang away, but as she leapt, one of the insect’s vicious, flailing feet caught her and slammed her to the forest floor.

She couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She writhed where she had landed, trying to get her bearings. The insect was thrashing on its back now, rolling and digging into the already-clawed earth. If she didn’t move soon, she’d be crushed.

A shimmering pink light dazzled her eyes. The princess was back, standing over her. Without a word, she reached down and gripped Catra’s shoulder.

Catra felt her body dissolve into warm, bright fragments. A moment later, her splintered body suctioned itself back together at the edge of the clearing, well out of the path of the angry insect. It was a bewildering experience, but not entirely unpleasant.

_The princess… saved me?_

“Are you ok?” That was Bow. “You were AMAZING.”

“Um… thanks?” She looked towards Glimmer, who scowled immediately.

“Whatever.”

“Wait, where’s Adora?” Catra looked for her frantically. Sure enough, Adora, being her idiot self, was running back into the clearing. She was headed for that stupid sword again.

Meanwhile, the insect had righted itself, and was angrier than ever.

“Adora, watch out!” The creature bore down on her blindly as she reached the sword. Catra’s stomach somersaulted as Adora swung the bright weapon expertly to catch the tip of the vicious leg slashing towards her head. Girl and insect hung there, each pushing at the other. It was matter of strength, now.

Adora was strong. Catra had the bruises and strained muscles from sparring sessions to prove it, but she was dwarfed by the massive creature. Her arms began to tremble; her knees began to give way.

“Adora!” Catra sprang forward.

“For the honor… of Grayskull!”

Light hit Catra like a brick wall, the same searing brightness that had incapacitated them all moments ago. She rushed forward anyway.

_I have to reach Adora before she gets herself killed._

She couldn’t see a thing, but she knew she was getting close. She could smell the dark, torn earth clinging to the insect’s carapace.

And she heard the gasps of the rebels behind her.

“Is that…”

“I see her, Bow.”

Catra finally blinked the remnants of the flash from her eyes and saw what they saw. She stopped cold. There, where Adora had just been struggling with the creature, was the massive, glowing figure of a woman. Her red cape streamed behind her, revealing bare, well-muscled arms that flexed as she held aloft Adora’s sword, pressing the insect back.

_Another princess?_

She twisted the sword, catching the creature’s leg and throwing it forcefully into the dirt. She stepped forward and, from her great height, slammed the sword through the insect’s head with a satisfying _crunch_. The insect’s legs convulsed once more before the thing lay quiet and dead.

As the woman turned, her impossibly long, silken hair blew back from her face to reveal bright blue eyes. Those eyes fell to where Catra knelt, bewildered, on the torn ground.

“Catra…” she said in the voice Catra would have known anywhere.

“A-Adora?”

_DID ADORA JUST TURN INTO A PRINCESS?_

“Um, what just happened?” asked the small princess from behind her.

“You’re so… big… and… shiny!” That was Bow.

Adora—big Adora—looked down at her hands, which were still glowing. She reached one hand up to the golden tiara that tamed her impossible hair and let out Adora’s familiar panic-sound, “Aaaaaaaaaaah—“

The light drained from her. As it did, Adora fell backward, flailing her arms and landing clumsily amid the broken clods of earth. Catra sprang to her side. By the time she got there, Adora – _her_ Adora, again – was struggling to stand once more. Catra helped her up.

“You know I was joking, earlier, about you turning into a princess when you touched that thing. Why do you have to take everything I say so literally?”

Adora actually managed a chuckle despite the drawn look on her face. “That didn’t happen when I touched it before.”

Sparkle Princess was scowling again, “What exactly did you just do?!”

“Me?” scoffed Adora, “I didn’t do anything!”

“The real question,” said Catra, her voice low and dangerous, “is what did _you_ do to _her_?”

Catra had the great satisfaction of seeing the princess’ face turn bright red as she struggled to speak through her anger. Seeing his friend’s predicament, Bow took over.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Adora was perfectly fine and _non-princess-y_ when we came into the woods. Then we meet you two, and suddenly she’s in a tiara!”

Adora looked to where the sword protruded from the chitinous head of the dead insect. “Yeah, I didn’t know being a princess was contagious.” She climbed on top of the thing’s head and struggled with the hilt of the sword, inching it from the corpse with effort.

Catra moved to stand squarely between Adora and the two rebels. “Whatever you did to her… undo it!”

Glimmer had apparently swallowed enough of her fury to speak again, “We didn’t do anything to her! How could we have done anything to her?”

With a final heave, Adora ripped the sword free, overbalancing as she did so and landing clumsily on her backside once more. Catra suppressed a snicker.

_Focus! I can make fun of her for that later._

Bow chimed in, “Look, clearly this was caused by some kind of magic from the sword. Just give it back to us… then you don’t have to deal with this anymore.”

It was a good argument. Catra turned to Adora, expecting her to hand the sword over. When she met Adora’s eyes, however, she could tell that was never going to happen. Adora’s mouth was set in a stubborn line, and the look she gave Catra was more than just willfulness, it was need.

_‘I think it has something to do with who I am, who my parents were.’_

Catra’s ears drooped involuntarily. Of course this wasn’t going to be easy. She turned back to the rebels.

“No. The sword stays with Adora.” She extended her claws slightly as a warning. “Now, we can either leave it at that and go our separate ways, or you can try your odds in a rematch with me.”

“And the scary lady in the cape,” Adora added, standing. Catra flicked one ear, annoyed.

_I’m more than a match for these sparkly idiots._

Bow and Glimmer looked at each other. The princess looked like she was itching for a fight, but her friend sighed and slung his bow over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Glimmer.”

“Bow! What—“

“No. Let’s be smart. We should report this back to Bright Moon.”

Glimmer let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine.” She scowled again.

“Careful,” Catra teased, “your face will stick that way.”

“Ugh!” Glimmer grabbed Bow’s elbow and they both disappeared in a cloud of sparkling pink.

“Well,” said Catra, turning to face Adora, “That was… I don’t really know what that was.”

“Yeah.” Adora was giving her a look.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just… I’ve never seen you like that, Catra.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The way you… took charge. And you practically took out that big bug on your own, barehanded.”

“Oh… well…” Catra thought about it for a moment. Everything had happened so quickly, but Adora was right—she’d never felt quite that way before. Confident. Strong. Capable. Free. “Whatever,” she said, pushing it from her mind. “Besides, you’re one to talk, princess.”

Adora winced. She lifted the sword to look at the stone set, shimmering, in its hilt. “Yeah. That was…” She stopped, her brow furrowed with worry.

“It was awesome, Adora.”

She looked up, “Huh?”

“You were so big!”

“Yeah. But I didn’t really feel like I was totally in control.”

“Who says that’s a bad thing?”

Adora looked down at her feet. “But, Catra, I’m a monster!”

“What? Don’t be dumb—“

“What are we going to tell Shadow Weaver?” Adora’s quiet question stopped Catra cold. If Shadow Weaver got involved in this type of power, and with Adora…

“Who says we have to tell her?”

“She’ll find out eventually, Catra. You know she will. She always does.”

Adora was beginning to panic, and it was starting to affect Catra, too. She took a deep breath to calm herself, catching the musky scent of the woods and the cool, dark smell of the broken earth around them. With the breath came an idea.

“What if we didn’t go back?”

Everything in the woods seemed to go quiet, weighted with anticipation as Catra and Adora stared at each other and considered this option.

Then Adora cleared her throat and looked down at the sword. “That’s crazy.”

“Why?”

“We can’t just… leave! The Horde took us in when we were kids. They gave us a home.” Adora met Catra’s gaze again, her eyes hard. “And they gave us a purpose. We have a duty to Etheria, Catra, and we can’t just walk away from that.”

_You can’t, maybe._

_But I can’t just walk away from you, either._

“Ok, fine. Then what _are_ we going to tell Shadow Weaver?”

“The truth.”

“You’re suicidal. What do you think she’s going to do to you when she finds out you’re a _princess_?”

_Or what she’ll do to me._

Adora’s panic was gone, replaced by a firm resolve. “Princess or not, I’m still me, and Shadow Weaver is the one who made me who I am. If anyone can find a solution to this whole mess, it’s her.”

_How can we see the same person so differently?_

Catra stepped forward and took Adora’s free hand. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Adora squeezed her hand lightly; it felt like she was squeezing her heart.

“Yes. Let’s go home, Catra.”

And they did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for Chapter 2!  
> Also this is my first fic ever, so I hope it's not terrible!


	2. Refractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Catra attempts to keep it together.  
> In which Scorpia appears (briefly) to save us all.  
> In which She-ra gets a makeover, courtesy of Shadow Weaver.  
> In which the author invents a rank of the Horde.

Shadow Weaver was not pleased about the stolen skiff. Luckily for Catra, Adora’s news was an enormous distraction. Shadow Weaver sequestered herself with Adora in the Black Garnet chamber, and Catra was left to her own devices.

Mostly she paced.

_What is Shadow Weaver doing to Adora?_

She had seemed more intrigued than angry, when Adora showed her the sword and described the whole princess-transformation-thing. Catra didn’t think Shadow Weaver would hurt her. Use her, yes, but not harm her. Not as long as she was useful, and Adora’s new-found abilities would only make her a better tool.

It was four days before Catra heard any news. Four days dodging the other cadets. Three nights in a cold, empty bunk. She managed all right, considering, but she hated every minute of it.

On the fourth night, Catra sat on the bed, anxiously kneading the hard mattress, wondering if there was any possible way she could get to Adora in the Black Garnet chamber without getting herself killed in the process, as the other cadets trickled into the barracks and went to bed.

Lonnie chuckled mockingly as she passed on the way to her bunk. “What’s the matter, kitty-cat? Missing your girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Lonnie.”

“Right, sorry, you’re more like her pet than her partner, anyway.”

Catra held up one long, darkly-glinting claw. “You know, Lonnie, it’s been a long time since I’ve scratched anyone on the eye,” she mused.

“She’s not coming back, you know.”

_What?!_

Catra knew this game. She kept her face relaxed, her voice disinterested, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Adora’s got some kind of superpowers now, right? It’s not like she’ll want you hanging around her anymore. Besides, they made her Force Captain. Moved her into private quarters and everything.”

“Whatever. Like I care.”

“You’d better,” Lonnie’s voice dropped low, threatening, “Because that means Adora’s not around to protect you anymore.” She climbed up to her bunk, still chuckling, and turned away.

Catra looked down at the bed, where she had unconsciously ripped five jagged holes in the mattress cover.

_She left me._

Her throat clutched painfully. She ripped another five holes into the mattress as she fought off a wave of nausea. She forced herself to take three large, quiet breaths.

_Don’t freak out._

_SHE LEFT ME._

Slowly, deliberately, she pulled her claws out of the frayed fabric and retracted them.

_Keep it together. You can do this._

Catra remembered the way it had felt to rip the giant insectoid to bits armed with nothing but her claws, the way she had negotiated with the rebels.

_I’ll be fine without her._

**

And she was.

For a few days, at least.

It started with an increased aggressiveness from her squad-mates during training exercises. They were testing the waters, seeing what they could get away with, making sure Adora wouldn’t somehow show up to chase them off. Even Kyle seemed to understand that the group dynamic had shifted, that he was no longer the omega.

It wasn’t so bad. Catra could deal with their little tricks. A few swift kicks to the shins and a couple of scratches to Lonnie’s arm—all delivered in the heat of faux-battle, of course—made the others keep their distance.

They put a dead mouse in her bunk.

Catra _hated_ mice. Her blood ran cold as she pulled back the blanket to reveal the desiccated gray lump lying where Adora should be. The barrack was quiet, everyone else ostensibly asleep, but Catra knew the others were listening, watching covertly for her reaction. The last time she’d encountered a mouse, she had been ten and terrified, and Adora had taken care of it for her. Her fur frizzed out in instinctive alarm, but she clamped her teeth together. She would not give them the satisfaction of making a sound. Taking a deep breath, she swaddled the tiny, dead thing in the blanket and carried it at a slow, measured pace to the trash incinerator. She was only a little colder than usual without the blanket.

She wondered if Adora was able to get to sleep in a bed by herself.

At least Shadow Weaver seemed to have forgotten she existed.

It was an evening a little over two weeks after she and Adora returned from the woods when the others decided to gang up on her.

She was on her way back to the barracks. She heard them coming—they were hardly stealthy, to her refined ear—but she couldn’t stop them. She managed to get a few good slashes in, but the encounter left her gasping on the floor of a deserted hallway with wide, purple bruises spreading over her ribs and across her back. They had hit her only where the damage would go unseen—not that anyone would have questioned her showing up the next day with visible injuries. They were more considerate than Shadow Weaver in that regard.

It might have been worse, but the group was startled off by heavy footsteps from one end of the hall. They scattered before they could be caught—it was after cadets’ curfew, after all. Catra tried to push herself out of sight, but she couldn’t catch her breath. Instead she just rolled over onto her back.

“What happened to you?”

An enormous woman was looking down at her, a tuft of startlingly white hair curling above her open face.

Catra blinked and finally managed to take a deep breath. “Oh nothing,” she managed to gasp, “I just… I tripped over my own tail.” She pushed herself into a seated position.

“Oh, yeah, I get that.” The woman lifted her own tail, plated in red armor and tipped with a savage-looking stinger. A look of concern darkened her face as Catra took another long, labored breath. “Are you sure you’re ok? Do you need first-aid? Do you need to be nursed tenderly back to health?”

“I… no?”

“Ok then. If you’re sure.” The woman offered Catra one large claw. Catra stared at it for a moment, searching for the trick, the thing that would hurt her. There was nothing, just the large, solid pincer steadily outstretched. She looked back into the woman’s face, which broke into an enormous, genuine smile as their eyes met.

Hesitantly, Catra took the proffered claw, levering herself to her feet unsteadily. As she stood, she saw the badge on the woman’s chest.

“You’re a Force Captain?” Catra remembered too late that she should have saluted, but the large woman didn’t seem to care.

Instead, she beamed another bright smile, “Yep! My name’s Scorpia. What’s yours?”

Catra ignored the question to ask another of her own. “Do you know Adora?”

Scorpia seemed taken aback for a moment. Then she smiled again, “Oh, yeah. I met Adora at the last Force Captain Orientation. She’s nice!”

_She left me._

“Is she… How is she?”

“Aw, are you two friends? How sweet! She never mentioned you.”

_Of course not._

“Why don’t you see for yourself how she’s doing?”

“What?”

“Well, the Force Captain barracks are just at the end of this hall. Adora’s room is close to mine, and she’s probably there now. I can show you!”

Without waiting for a response, Scorpia turned excitedly and started down the hallway.

“Oh… ok.” Catra followed, slowly, pain knifing through her ribs with each breath. Every step was jarring.

_This is probably fine…_

Scorpia seemed to notice that she was outpacing Catra and slowed down so she could catch up.

_Good thing I’m not a spy for the Rebellion. I have the feeling she’d take me anywhere I asked, and I never even told her my name._

Scorpia deposited Catra outside a tall, forbidding door and continued down the hall with a cheerful, “Goodnight, kitty!”

Catra put the strange woman from her mind and stared hard at the door, her bruised ribs momentarily forgotten.

 _Do I_ want _to see Adora?_

She closed her eyes tightly, silenced something within herself, and turned to walk away.

“Catra!”

Her eyes popped open. Adora approached from the direction she and Scorpia had just come. She looked the same as ever, with her high collar and even higher ponytail, though the badge at her chest and the sword slung across her back did make her seem taller, more imposing, somehow.

“Hey, Adora.” Catra stood stiff and awkward as Adora closed the space between them.

_Should I salute or something?_

Adora, oblivious to the tension surrounding Catra like a cloud, smiled brightly as she reached her. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“You are?”

“Of course! Come in!” She palmed open the large door and ushered Catra inside. Catra had never been in a private room before. For a moment, she was disoriented—it was so quiet, the air so still. She flicked an ear uncomfortably and curled her tail defensively around one leg.

“Have a seat while I put this away.” Adora unslung the sword from her back and placed it delicately in a wire rack. The only furniture in the room was a long bed with a small table next to it. Catra remained standing.

“I can’t stay long,” Catra lied, trying to sound uncaring, “Just wanted to make sure you were keeping out of trouble.”

Adora laughed. “As if.” Catra still stood uncomfortably, her eyes down. She nearly jumped as Adora came close and put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey,” she said gently, “I missed you, too.”

_Not enough to come find me._

“Whatever!” Catra pushed Adora’s hand away with more playfulness than she felt, “Get over yourself.”

Adora laughed again and sat on the bed. “Come on, really, Catra, how have you been?”

Catra sat gingerly on the part of the bed furthest from Adora and leaned against the headboard. “Me? I’m great.” The cool wall felt good on her battered back, if she didn’t rest too much weight against it. “You’re the one who does all the exciting things—turning into a princess, getting promoted to Force Captain…”

_Moving out of our bunk without so much as a word._

“Yeah,” Adora looked down, “it’s been a wild couple of weeks.” Adora looked up again, catching Catra’s gaze. Her eyes were bright, intense. “I’ve learned so much about myself! I—I guess I’ve been pretty distracted. I’m sorry I haven’t come talk to you.”

There was a happy flutter in Catra’s chest. She quashed it.

_Stop that. I’m supposed to be mad at her._

“It’s whatever. You were busy. I get it.”

Adora turned, scooted closer to her on the bed. “I don’t know how to explain it, Catra, but everything just feels so… right. Like everything is just falling into place like it’s supposed to.”

“How nice for you.” The sarcasm, as usual, was lost on Adora.

“I may be a princess, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fight for the right side. Shadow Weaver helped me learn how to control the magic from the sword. She fixed it, so I can use its power for the Horde, now. I can use it for good!” With a bound, Adora was off the bed, jostling Catra painfully against the headboard. She lifted the sword out of its rack and twirled it with one hand. “Get ready to see something cool,” she said, and hefted the sword over her head dramatically. “For the honor of Hordak!”

The transformation looked different this time. Where before there had been a blinding flash of pure, white light, now there was something more akin to a cloud, or a shadow. Adora was engulfed in what looked like a tiny thunderstorm, cut through with crimson lightning. When the smoke cleared, Adora had grown into the fierce warrior woman again, though her costume had changed, just as had the look of the transformation itself. The silken, blonde hair was the same, as were Adora’s piercing blue eyes, but the red cape had turned to black. The tunic, shorts, and boots had similarly darkened. They were a smoky charcoal color now, and the accents were red. Hordak’s winged insignia was blazoned across Adora’s chest like a brand. Despite the darker colors, she still glowed, albeit now with an ominous, reddish light. As she lowered the sword, Catra noticed that the shimmering jewel in the hilt had been replaced or covered over by a rough shard of glowing red stone—a piece of the Black Garnet. This was how Shadow Weaver had ‘fixed it’, then.

Adora was looking at her expectantly.

“That tiara looks dumber every time I see it.”

“Ugh, Catra, is that all you have to say?” Somehow Adora’s newly-acquired height and musculature made her exasperation even more entertaining than usual.

“What? It’s a dumb tiara!”

Adora sighed. “Shadow Weaver says that this form is called She-Ra, and only a few people in the entire history of Etheria have ever been able to unlock its power from the sword.” Adora looked proudly at the sword in her hand and smiled. “There’s something about it, Catra… When I hold the sword, it feels like… destiny. Does that sound silly?”

Catra was silent. She looked at Adora, eight feet tall with rippling biceps and somehow generating her own wind, and her heart sank.

_Destiny._

Adora had always had a path. She had always been heading towards this. Catra had never been anything more than a stop on the path, at best, more likely a hindrance, if Shadow Weaver was to be believed. How could she expect Adora to want to keep her around when she had this? When she had destiny?

“No, it’s not silly.” Catra maneuvered herself delicately off Adora’s bed, trying not to grimace at the pain that bloomed in her back and abdomen. “Anyway I’d better be going.”

“Oh,” She-Ra disappeared in another miniature thunderstorm, leaving Adora looking small and surprised as Catra made her way to the door. She put the sword carefully back on its rack and caught Catra’s hand before she could leave. “Hey, Catra. Come back and visit soon, ok? I really do miss you.” Without warning, Adora wrapped her arms around Catra’s waist, pulling her into a tight hug.

Catra couldn’t help it. The sudden pressure on her hidden injuries caused an instinctive reaction. She hissed angrily, and her claws extended, digging deep into Adora’s back where her hands had reflexively landed as Adora pulled her close.

Adora’s initial reaction was lost to Catra as her vision swam and darkened. When she became aware of her surroundings again, she was flat on her back on the bed, Adora’s worried face above her.

“Catra, what happened? You blacked out or something!”

“Sorry.” She sat up slowly, taking careful breaths. “Sorry,” she said again. All she wanted was to get out of there. As she stood, she saw bloody cuts on the back of Adora’s white shirt, making an eerie pattern with the red insignia of Hordak. “Your back! I—I’m sorry—“

“Catra, calm down.” Adora tried to get her to sit back down by placing one hand on her shoulder and another across one side of her ribs. The recurrence of the searing pain made Catra hiss once more, and she swiped at Adora’s hand. Luckily, this time she missed, but Adora pulled back and went very quiet.

“What happened?” she whispered, as Catra pulled further away and curled protectively around her midriff.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Show me, Catra.”

“No. Don’t worry about it.”

Adora came close, took Catra’s wrists in a vice grip, and looked sternly into her eyes. “Catra!”

Slowly, she uncurled and sat quietly, ears downturned, as Adora carefully lifted up her shirt. The sharp intake of Adora’s breath told Catra that the damage was visible even through her fur—more than just bruises, then. They must have broken skin, possibly bone. She tried not to think about that and twitched as Adora placed a cool hand gently over her ribs.

“Who did this?” Adora’s voice was quiet, infused with iron.

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes. Tell me their names.”

“No, Adora. I don’t need you to protect me.”

Adora lost her cool, then. “Well clearly you do!”

Catra knocked Adora’s hand away and shoved her shirt back down, her tail lashing angrily. “If that’s what you think, then why did you leave me?” she spat.

Adora spluttered, “I—I didn’t—“

Catra stood and strode towards the door. “Whatever, Adora.”

“No, wait—“ Adora caught her hand, spun Catra to face her. “Please, just tell me their names.”

“What if I told you it was Shadow Weaver?” Adora dropped Catra’s hand, her face going slack with… what? Apprehension? Disbelief? It was as though a wall had dropped between them.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Catra turned to go.

“Was it?”

“Was what?”

“Was it Shadow Weaver?” The look in Adora’s eyes was unreadable. Her lip was trembling.

Catra sighed. “No, it wasn’t Shadow Weaver.”

_This time._

Adora took her hand again. “Then I can fix this.”

Catra pushed her away. “No, you can’t. If you get involved you’ll just make things worse.”

“How could I possibly make them _worse_?”

“Because you’ll make a big fuss over it, and I’ll have to deal with the fallout when you leave again.”

Adora was silent for a moment. Her mouth solidified into a stubborn line, and her eyes narrowed. “Then I won’t leave.”

“What?”

“We’ll stick together. I’ll look out for you, and you’ll look out for me, just like we always promised.”

Catra snorted at the reference. Adora had as good as broken that promise already. “You’ve gone insane. How are we supposed to stick together? You’re a super-powered Force Captain now, and I’m just a cadet. And a pretty crummy one, according to basically everyone.”

“But that’s it, don’t you see? I’m a Force Captain! That means I can choose a Lieutenant!”

She was right. Each high-ranking officer was entitled to a Lieutenant, a kind of personal bodyguard and second-in-command. A Lieutenant was their Force Captain’s right hand. A side-kick.

“It’s the perfect solution! Be my Lieutenant, Catra—you always said you didn’t care about things like rank.”

Lieutenant was a rank given to common soldiers, those without the years of special training for officer ranks like Force Captain. If Catra had been any good as a cadet, she would’ve been over-qualified for a position as a Lieutenant. As it was, though…

A Lieutenant stayed with their assigned officer throughout their career, never changing rank, though their officer might move upwards. This meant that if Catra accepted, she could stay with Adora no matter where she went or what she did.

It also meant that, barring some incredible act of bravery or cunning on the battlefield, Catra would never be anything _but_ Adora’s Lieutenant. She would never be a Force Captain.

“What do you say?”

_I would never have to leave Adora’s side._

“Please!”

_I could never get out of Adora’s shadow._

Catra made the mistake of meeting Adora’s eyes. She was looking at Catra with so much hope and anticipation that her face fairly shone. Catra wanted to get lost in those eyes, swim in them like lakes of unpolluted water somewhere far outside the Fright Zone.

At that moment, Adora’s shadow didn’t seem like such a bad place to be.

“Ok, Adora. Let’s do it.”

Adora squeezed Catra’s hands in her own and smiled. “Perfect. We’ll get it all settled tomorrow. Why don’t you stay here tonight? Unless there’s something back in the cadet’s barracks you need—“

“No,” Catra said quickly, “I don’t need anything from back there.”

“Good. Once you’re officially my Lieutenant, you can move your stuff into the adjoining room… And Catra—“ Adora pulled her into another hug, this time placing her arms gently around Catra’s shoulders, careful not to press her bruised flesh. “No matter what my destiny is, you’re a part of it.”

It was the first good night’s sleep she’d gotten in weeks, tucked in her familiar place at Adora’s feet.

_Destiny, huh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! And commenting! And kudo-ing!


	3. Fractals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shadow Weaver is (still) the worst, Catra gets to drive a tank, and Adora needs a hug.

Catra levered herself painfully out of bed the next morning to accompany Adora to Shadow Weaver’s lair. She felt stiff and swollen all over, and with each step a wave of pain rippled up her ribcage. She gritted her teeth and matched her pace to Adora’s.

Shadow Weaver was, predictably, overjoyed to see Adora. She was, predictably, less than happy to see Catra. She took Adora into the Black Garnet chamber alone, leaving Catra to stand awkwardly in the hallway as they decided her fate. She hated it, but, she supposed, this was the way things had to work now.

After an interminable wait, Adora exited the chamber, pale but smiling. “Your turn,” she said, giving Catra a gentle nudge in the direction of the door. “I’ll wait for you.”

Catra paused, staring at the shadowed entrance. “Don’t bother. I’ll come and find you when we’re finished here.”

Adora’s eyes darkened with concern, “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.”

“No. You go ahead. You’ve got important Force Captain things to do, I’m sure.”

“Well, ok, then. See you later.” She left.

Catra took a deep breath, trying her best to ignore the painful shift of her ribs expanding, and stepped into Shadow Weaver’s inner sanctum.

She had her back turned to Catra, staring into the heart of the Garnet. The door rumbled shut.

“Adora tells me she wishes you to be her Lieutenant.” She did not turn. “I told her that was a bad idea.” She drew one long finger across the face of the Garnet. “But she was insistent.” Finally she faced Catra, her eyes narrowing. “I have never understood Adora’s fondness for you. I thought she had outgrown it.” She wafted closer, the tendrils of her robe flickering dangerously. “Well? Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

“Not sure what you’re expecting me to say. You’ve always told me I’ll never measure up to Adora. I just want to make it official.”

Shadows flooded in from every corner of the room to gather around the tall figure before her. “Don’t imagine for a moment that this has anything to do with _you_. My concern is for Adora, and her future.”

“Right. Of course it is.”

“You make her weak.” The shadows roiled.

“Adora is plenty strong, and one of these days, she won’t need you anymore.” Catra stepped forward to close the gap between them, coming face to face with the wraith. “So, are we doing this, or what?”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed again, and an angry tendril shot forward to wrap around Catra’s upper arm. Catra bit her inner cheek to keep herself from crying out as pain flared where the tendril met her skin.

_Forgot this part._

Of course Shadow Weaver would brand her like a common soldier. The tendril tightened, and Catra could smell her fur burning. It didn’t last long. Catra looked casually down at her arm to see the pink welts rising from her skin—Hordak’s winged insignia, inscribed on her body forever—permanent, visible proof of her demotion, her life at once tied to Adora’s and barred from it forever.

Shadow Weaver wasn’t done yet. Walls of darkness surrounded Catra, and crackling red lightning wrapped tightly around her body. She gasped as her already-abused ribs were squeezed mercilessly. Shadow Weaver brought her face close, menacing.

“Let me be perfectly clear—if Adora is in any way… _distracted_ , if she does not achieve her full potential, I will hold _you_ responsible. You remember what that means?” Catra managed to nod.

The pain in her body dulled back to an ache as Shadow Weaver released her. The wraith withdrew to the Black Garnet, placing both palms onto the lurid stone. “You are dismissed,” she said, simply, and Catra went.

She felt stifled, inside like this. She found the nearest exit and climbed—less nimbly than usual, due to her injuries—to the highest spot she could find. She lifted her nose and breathed in the thick, polluted air of the Fright Zone. It made her want to gag, but it was still better than being stuck inside with all the sweat and anger and ambition fogging the air. She stared at the vast Fright Zone stretching out below her, strained her eyes to the purple mass of the Whispering Woods beyond. Idly, she wondered what that sparkly princess and her stupid friend were up to now.

Catra sighed and poked at the new mark on her arm with one finger. The fur there was singed away. She wondered if it would ever grow back over the burned skin. Hordak’s wings seemed to leer up at her, and Lonnie’s taunt rang through her mind.

_‘You’re more her pet than her partner, anyway.’_

And now there was a clear sign of ownership.

_At least they didn’t fit me for a collar._

The bitter thought kicked her out of her reverie. She wouldn’t have to deal with Lonnie anymore, or any of the other cadets. No one could touch her, now, except maybe Shadow Weaver, and Catra was used to that. All she had to do was make sure Adora was a success. Easy. Adora would most likely take care of that herself.

Now that Catra had a job to do, was no longer stuck in the limbo of cadet training, she could finally get out of the Fright Zone for _real_. She would see active duty with Adora. They would finally see the world and conquer it.

Catra wanted to be there on the day Adora finally turned against Shadow Weaver.

She shook the thought from her head and went to find Adora.

**

They didn’t have long to wait before they saw active duty. Adora practically _bounced_ into the room they now shared (Catra had an adjoining room of her own, but she never used it) to tell Catra they would be leading an attack on the Rebel stronghold of Thaymor. Catra smiled at Adora’s excitement.

Her smile widened when Adora told her she could drive a tank.

“Awesome,” she said, for at least the hundredth time, as she angled the tank’s blaster into position. Thaymor lay before them, a low wall barring the view of most of the small, bulbous buildings beyond. She aimed for a thick, twisted tree trunk that rose well behind the wall, one of the few features visible from their vantage point. Might as well cause a little chaos inside while Adora and the others took care of the wall.

She-Ra was already large and red and darkly glowing, striding out in front of the line of tanks. She was a terrifying sight, and the thought flickered briefly through Catra’s mind that she was glad they were on the same side. She focused again as Adora raised her sword to give the signal for the Horde tanks to fire.

It was over quickly. The wall lasted less than a minute, and the tanks rolled through easily to take out the structures behind. She-Ra smashed through several buildings herself, seemingly without any injury at all. The people of Thaymor scattered. Catra let them go, focusing instead on razing buildings. The people weren’t fighting back, after all, so what was the point in trying to hurt them? Watching trees and buildings fall was much more satisfying than mowing down civilians, anyway.

When the riot of fleeing people had quieted, and Thaymor lay silently smoking, the Horde soldiers exited their machines to poke through the rubble. Catra followed suit.

Nearly two decades of training had not prepared her for the smell. The thick scent of scorched timber and ravaged earth was disorienting, and she wobbled slightly as she climbed out of the tank. Her nose burned with the smell of things that had met disastrously with laser fire—clay pots, gourds, hair, skin. She gagged and coughed for moment before gritting her teeth and looking for Adora.

Adora was decidedly not OK.

When Catra found her, she was ripping bare-handed (as She-Ra) through the broken remains of a building. The glow of her hands was darkened by soot as she tossed aside the ruined fragments of a bucket, a dress, a doll. She was muttering to herself, and she jumped as Catra put a hand on her back.  She whipped her head up; her blue eyes looked feverish.

“Where are they?”

Catra withdrew her hand. “What?”

Adora turned quickly on her heel, took a few long paces, turned again, crushing mud and ash beneath her boots. She drew the sword from its place on her back and held it loosely in one hand.

 “Where are the fortifications? Where are the weapons stores?”

“Adora—“

“There must be some mistake. This can’t be Thaymor.”

“Adora!” Catra’s tone made her stop her wild pacing. Catra placed a hand on the arm holding the sword. “Why don’t we talk,” she flicked an ear towards a nearby group of listening soldiers, “Somewhere private?”

Adora cleared her throat and quieted. Catra gripped her arm and led her to a smoking burn-out with most of its walls miraculously still standing.

“What is wrong with you?”

Adora’s eyes were wide. “We must have missed the target! Thaymor is supposed to be a heavily fortified base. This is a civilian town!”

Catra looked at the broken walls around them, looked back to Adora. Sure, Thaymor wasn’t exactly what had been advertised, but why was Adora so surprised?

“Adora, this is— _was_ Thaymor. Our navigation equipment led us here.”

Adora was breathing quickly, her face alarmingly pale. “Catra, what did we just do?”

Catra looked again at the smoking ruins around them. A knot clenched in her stomach. “We did exactly what Shadow Weaver sent us to do.”

Adora started pacing again. It took only two of She-Ra’s massive strides to reach one charred wall, two back. “No, Catra. There must have been a mistake. She must have had bad information.”

Catra felt her anger rise.

_Is she this oblivious on purpose?_

“Seriously Adora? Is destroying a bunch of innocent people’s homes really not enough to make you realize that Shadow Weaver has been lying to you?”

“Catra, don’t say that.”

_Do I really have explain this to her?_

“But it’s true! She’s been messing with our heads since we were kids!” She gestured to the smoking rubble surrounding them. “Face it, Adora, we are not the good guys.”

Adora stopped pacing.

“How can I… How is that possible?” Something complicated was taking place over Adora’s face. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps now, and her hands were shaking. She tried to take a step, stumbled, fell to one knee, dropped her sword.

“Adora?”

“I don’t… I feel…” The dark shadow of She-Ra’s transformation whirled around her, and Adora collapsed, unconscious, in the rubble.

“Adora!” Catra knelt and lifted Adora’s head out of the soot. She looked small and fragile without the flowing cape and that ridiculous tiara. Adora had never seemed so breakable to Catra, and it scared her.

_Don’t panic. It’s just like before, in the woods. She was breathing that time, she’s probably breathing now._

_I have to get her out of here._

Catra desperately tried to heave Adora up over her shoulders, but only managed to drop Adora with a sickening _thud_ as she stumbled under the weight. Adora might have been substantially smaller than She-Ra, but she was still too heavy for Catra to carry effectively by herself.

 _Why do you have all these damn muscles, Adora? They’re_ heavy.

Catra looked around frantically to find something to help her drag Adora back to the rest of the squadron—

_Oh. Duh._

_It’s not just us. I don’t have to do this alone._

Catra positioned Adora so that her face was out of the dirt and left the shadow of the burned out walls.

“Help!” She called, “Over here! Force Captain down and in need of medical attention!” Shortly, she heard the _clump_ of Horde-issue boots, and she found four soldiers staring at her and at Adora’s limp form on the ground behind her.

“We need to get Ador— the Force Captain back to the Fright Zone. Get her up and onto a skiff.” The soldiers were silent, still staring at her. A growl rumbled up from deep in Catra’s throat. Her tail lashed and her claws sprang out reflexively. “Now! That’s an order!”

The soldiers jumped to attention. The two nearest her saluted quickly and hurried forward to lift Adora. The other two ran back towards the equipment to bring a skiff.

A glint caught Catra’s eye as she followed the soldiers out of the ruin. There lay Adora’s sword, gleaming through the soot where she had dropped it. Catra supposed it would be a bad idea to just leave the sword there, though the thought was rather tempting for some reason. Catra dug it out of the ash and hefted it—it seemed heavier than she remembered.

“Lieutenant Catra!” The soldier’s tone and salute took Catra a little off guard, and she almost jumped. “The skiff is ready.”

Catra lowered the sword. “Good. I’ll ride with the Force Captain. You bring the rest of the squadron back behind us.” She glanced at the smoking remains of Thaymor. “We’re finished here.”

“Yes, Lieutenant. We’ll get Force Captain Adora to the medical facilities as quickly as possible.”

Catra lifted the sword again, looking at the rough shard of the Black Garnet on its hilt. “No,” she said, “we’re taking her straight to Shadow Weaver.”

**

Catra never thought she would be glad to enter the Black Garnet chamber, let alone spend any amount of time there.

But here she was, keeping a strange, grim vigil over Adora with none other than Shadow Weaver herself.

Adora lay on a low slab next to the Black Garnet, its lurid glow illuminating her drawn features. Catra knelt by Adora’s head, searching her face for some indication of recovery, while Shadow Weaver looked on impassively. They’d been in this position for nearly an hour, waiting for Adora to wake up.

“So,” Catra drawled, to break the silence, “You wanna tell me what’s wrong with her, or should I just wait until she collapses in the field again?”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed, and Catra could almost sense the darkness gathering behind her, but, finally, the wraith just sighed. “The true depth and nature of Adora’s power is as yet… unknown. It appears she will need to return to the Black Garnet regularly to renew her strength.”

“You mean she has to recharge her princess powers?”

Shadow Weaver’s contempt was tangible in the brief silence that followed. “…Yes.”

“Well that’s just perfect.”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed again. “I did not expect her to be so weakened by the mission to Thaymor. Did anything out of the ordinary occur before she collapsed?”

Catra did not take her eyes from Adora’s face. “No.”

“You had best not keep anything from me, Lieutenant.”

By this point in her life, Catra had a great deal of experience lying to Shadow Weaver. “Why would I? I want to fix whatever’s wrong with Adora just as much as you do. After all, if she doesn’t wake up, I’m out of a job.”

_And a whole lot else._

“If you are so concerned about your _job_ ,” said Shadow Weaver, and now the darkness definitely _was_ roiling, “You should have taken more care to preserve your Force Captain’s command.”

“What? Thaymor was already in ruins! I got her and everyone else back here as quickly as possible.”

“Exposing Adora’s… physical failure to her entire squadron in the process. You not only make her weak, you showcase her weakness to those under her command.”

“How are you making this my fault? What was I supposed to do, pretend she _wasn’t_ unconscious on the ground?”

The growing storm of Shadow Weaver’s rage dissipated as Adora stirred and opened her eyes.

“Catra?” Adora extended a hand towards her.

“Hey, Adora.” Catra took the proffered hand and cocked an eyebrow. “Think maybe you could _not_ pass out the next time we leave the Fright Zone?”

“Adora.” Shadow Weaver dropped the name like a stone behind them. Adora’s eyes widened as she realized exactly where she was. She dropped Catra’s hand quickly and struggled to sit upright on the slab.

“Shadow Weaver.” Adora stared straight ahead, her spine rigid.

“Your first mission as Force Captain had… mixed results.”

“I’m sorry Shadow Weaver. I won’t disappoint you again.”

Catra’s gut clenched as Shadow Weaver reached a hand towards Adora’s face. She smoothed a lock of Adora’s hair into place. “See that you don’t.” If Adora flinched, Catra couldn’t see it.

Shadow Weaver turned away from them. “Now, go. I must speak with Lord Hordak. We will debrief tomorrow.”

Adora stood shakily, and Catra led her away from the Black Garnet chamber back towards their room.

It was slow going. Adora didn’t appear to be injured, just weak and a bit disoriented. Catra led them through deserted back ways, service corridors that she frequented when she wanted to avoid other people. It was a longer trip, this way, but it kept Adora out of sight.

As they walked, Catra did her best to fill Adora in on what had happened after she passed out. Adora listened without comment. Catra had just explained that Adora would need to recharge her powers from the Black Garnet when she noticed Adora breathing heavily. Catra stopped and leaned against the wall.

“Why did you stop?”

“Because you need to rest.”

“No I don’t,” Adora gasped.

“Would you stop being an idiot and just sit down for a minute? There’s no one here to see.”

Adora looked like she was going to argue, but then she gave up and sat down with a sigh. She put her head in her hands and stared at the floor.

Catra observed her for a moment before fielding a comment.

“So… Thaymor.”

“Thaymor.” Adora sighed again. “I just can’t understand it, Catra. The Horde is supposed to do what’s best for Etheria. But what we did there…”

Catra knelt and took Adora’s hands. “Look, that place doesn’t matter. _None_ of this matters. Let Hordak and Shadow Weaver fight whatever stupid war they want. We’ll take care of each other, like we always do, and pretty soon, Adora, _you’ll_ be the one calling the shots.”

“How can you be OK with this?”

Catra dropped Adora’s hands and scratched at the brand on her arm, “Well, I don’t have much of a choice.”

_Some of us can’t afford the luxury of having a conscience._

Adora put her face in her hands. “I just wish things would make sense again. I’m so tired, Catra.”

“I know.” Catra stood and extended a hand down to Adora. “Come on. The sooner we get back to our room, the sooner you can get some rest.”

**

They were both quiet as they got ready for sleep. A warm shower had barely helped to ease Catra’s strained muscles, and she stretched before coiling herself at the foot of the bed. Adora climbed under her covers without looking at Catra and dimmed the lights as far as they would go—it never got truly dark in the Fright Zone.

Catra’s eyes drooped, and she fell deeply asleep without really meaning to.

She was woken some time later by a faint shaking in the bed.

Without opening her eyes, she quirked one ear back to listen. A few quiet sniffles wafted down from the headboard, and it felt as though the blanket had been kicked off the bed.

_Is Adora… crying?_

She lifted her head, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Adora?”

No answer.

“Adora, are you ok?”

Adora cleared her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was thin and tremulous, “I’m fine, Catra. Go back to sleep.” She sniffed again.

_No way._

She hesitated for a moment—by some unspoken agreement, she and Adora had kept to their separate spots in the bed since the age of eleven or so. As children, they had often woken in a wild tangle of limbs and tail, but for the past several years, Adora had stretched out with her head on the pillow, and Catra had curled at her feet. It was close, comfortable, but left a kind of barrier between them. Catra wasn’t sure why or when precisely this habit arose. It served, to a certain extent, to keep the other cadets from talking, she supposed. But the other cadets weren’t here now, and Adora needed her. Catra crawled up alongside her and leaned uncertainly by the pillow.

Adora’s eyes were red-rimmed and her face swollen with tears. As Catra appeared beside her, she hid her face in the pillow.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra gently placed a hand on her shoulder, making sure her claws were retracted. She carefully rubbed her thumb back and forth over Adora’s arm in an attempt at comfort. “It’s just me. You don’t have to hide.”

Slowly, Adora inched her tear-stained face out of the pillow. Catra moved her hand to cup one wet cheek briefly before smoothing a few wild strands of hair away from Adora’s face. At the gentle gesture, Adora’s face crumpled, and she heaved a sob as another wave of tears rushed out. One arm snaked around Catra’s waist as Adora pulled her close, burying her face against Catra’s collarbone. Catra wrapped her arms tightly around Adora as she sobbed into her neck.

“Hey, it’s—it’s gonna be ok. I’ve got you.”

“Catra,” she whispered, “It was awful. It was so awful.”

Catra thought of the smoke rising from the ruins of Thaymor, the rancid smell of ash and fear, and squeezed Adora tighter.

“Yeah, yeah it was.”

Adora cried herself out, and eventually, exhaustion overtook them both.

When Catra woke next, she found that their position had changed. Now her arm was slung across Adora’s waist, and she was tucked snugly under Adora’s chin, breathing in the clean scent of her neck. Adora’s strong arm was wrapped securely around Catra’s shoulders, locking them together in a knot of safety and warmth. Catra’s tail was curled gently over Adora’s calves, and their feet were tangled together.

A low rumble ignited in Catra’s chest.

“Are you… purring?” Of course Adora was already awake.

“No. Whatever. Maybe.” Adora chuckled.

“Ok. Well, don’t stop. It’s nice.” Catra snuggled closer, resting her nose against Adora’s collarbone. Adora settled her chin on top of Catra’s head. "This is nice.”

“Yeah. It is.”

Catra had nearly fallen asleep again when she felt Adora delicately begin to untangle herself from their nest. Catra tightened her grip at Adora’s waist, protesting.

“Sorry, Catra, but I, at least, have to get up.” She pulled Catra’s arm away. Catra blinked up at her, and Adora smiled into her face as she extracted herself from the bed. After stretching briefly, she retrieved her sword from its rack.

She held it up in the light, peering at her reflection in the blade. Her face had changed. Now, her expression was hard, closed off—there was no trace of the crying girl of the night before, nor even, Catra thought, of the girl who had just woken up next to her.

“Adora?”

“There’s something I have to do.” She left without another word.

Catra sighed and rolled out of the bed. Sleeping tangled together again had been nice. They’d both acknowledged it briefly, and now, no doubt, they would never talk about it again. That was the way it always seemed to work between her and Adora—they simply didn’t talk about the things that might be too much: the shedding of tears, the twining together of fingers, the mysterious bruising of a tail.

Catra wondered if either of them would have the courage to say they wanted to sleep side-by-side again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update was so long in coming. Thanks for reading!


	4. Distortions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which feelings are felt.  
> Also that sparkly princess and her pal make a reappearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! You may have noticed that I changed the rating on this. Don't worry - it's nothing too extreme, but things do get a little intense in this chapter and I wanted to err on the side of caution.

After Adora abandoned her in the cooling nest of their bed, Catra spent the day avoiding her _exciting_ new Lieutenant’s task of filing battle reports and didn’t see Adora again until that evening.

Catra was idly scratching a doodle into the wall when Adora breezed into their room. Adora’s demeanor had changed entirely from that morning. She seemed bright and cheerful, the iron determination of earlier gone. She hummed lightly to herself as she put her sword away and flopped comfortably onto the bed.

Catra, still lounging on the floor by the wall, observed her for a moment. “Adora… why are you so… chipper?”

Adora rolled over to look at her, blonde hair falling towards the floor as her head lolled upside down from the bed. “What do you mean?”

Catra reached over and placed a claw to Adora’s forehead. As always, Adora nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at the spot where Catra’s fingertip met the ridge of her brow. Catra suppressed a chuckle. “I _mean_ ,” she said, “that when you left this morning, you seemed super serious. Now…” Adora swatted Catra’s finger from her face, caught it in her hand, held it. “Well, you’re sort of _light_. What have you been doing all day?”

“Oh, I spent the day with Shadow Weaver.”

A chill snaked up Catra’s spine. “Adora,” she said, pulling away, “Sane people do not spend any amount of time with Shadow Weaver and leave feeling _happy_.”

Adora let out an exasperated sigh and sat up. “What, so because you don’t like Shadow Weaver I can’t be happy right now?”

_I guess that good mood was pretty fragile._

“Someone’s a little touchy.” Adora glared at her. “I just meant that, in my experience, hanging out with Shadow Weaver does not make for a very fun time.”

Adora’s voice was clipped and tense as she responded. “I know she’s not exactly your favorite person, but really, the way you talk about her—the way you talk _to_ her—well you can hardly be surprised she’s so hard on you.”

Catra couldn’t keep her tail from lashing angrily. “I see.” The air was starting to feel too close in the small room. She stood, preparing to leave.

“Wait, Catra, I’m sorry,” Adora put her face in her hands, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just – _ugh_ – It’s been a long day, and I just wanted to relax. I’ve been under so much stress—you wouldn’t understand.”

Catra chose not to respond to that, as she was not in the mood for frustrated screaming. Not yet, anyway.

“Please stay. I want to just… be here with you. Can we do that?”

Catra crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. Adora seemed a little deflated now, and some of that vulnerable girl who had cried into her pillow was showing through.

“Fine.”

Adora looked relieved. They stared at each other for a long moment, letting the tension ease—attempting to, anyway. The air was thick with sour feelings.

“So what did you and Shadow Weaver do all day? I assume you weren’t braiding She-Ra’s hair or something.”

“Of course not. We talked.”

“You talked.”

“Yes.”

“And that put you in a good mood?”

Adora’s face brightened momentarily. “It definitely helped.” She shifted in her spot on the bed and lowered her eyes uncomfortably. “You know how I was yesterday – I was so confused, and weak, and I failed so badly—“

“You didn’t fail, Adora. You led your first mission successfully and then passed out because Shadow Weaver didn’t understand how your powers worked.”

“No, Catra. I showed weakness in front of my squadron. I let Shadow Weaver down.” Catra scoffed. “And I let _you_ down! What if the Rebellion had attacked after I passed out? I wouldn’t have been able to protect you!”

Catra’s heart writhed. A warm softness at Adora’s concern for her safety tussled with annoyance at her assumption that Catra couldn’t take care of herself. She flicked an ear to dispel the conflict.

“Fine, whatever, but yesterday you seemed less concerned about failure than you did about, well…” Catra searched for the best words, “What happened before you passed out.”

Adora crumpled a bit more. “Well, yeah, that too.” She looked so small and alone on the bed that Catra relented and went to sit beside her.

“I had to get answers about that,” Adora continued, glancing gratefully at Catra as the bed sagged under their combined weight, “That’s why I left so quickly this morning. Sorry about that, by the way,” Adora placed her hand over Catra’s briefly, and Catra felt warmth flare in her chest again. “I went to confront Shadow Weaver, to ask about Thaymor, about what you said about not being the good guys…” She trailed off.

Every muscle in Catra’s body stiffened with anticipation, and her ears pricked forward. She looked intently into Adora’s face as the Force Captain stared at the floor. Had it finally happened? Had Adora realized the truth and broken them free of Shadow Weaver?

“And?” She prompted, inching closer to hear the answer.

Adora turned to her, took her hand and held it tightly. She beamed a bright smile into Catra’s face, “And she explained everything to me! It was all a misunderstanding, just like I thought.”

_No._

Of course it hadn’t been a real confrontation.

_Stupid of me to think so, after the way she bit my head off about Shadow Weaver a minute ago. Am I really that desperate for her to choose me once and for all?_

Catra pulled away, but Adora continued, the words spilling out now in a rush. “It’s true, Thaymor wasn’t exactly a fortress, but the people there were giving aid to the Rebellion. They were conspiring with Bright Moon to stage a raiding party into the Fright Zone! Can you believe it? They actually _want_ the princesses to be in charge! We can’t even trust the people we’re protecting to know what’s good for them.”

The gentle warmth that had built in Catra’s chest sharpened into something more dangerous.

“Seriously? That’s what she told you? And you believe her?”

“Well, yes. Think about it—that makes perfect sense!”

_So._

Adora had gone to Shadow Weaver to have her fears assuaged. She had gone for assurance that she was on the side of Good rather than staying with Catra, who could have comforted her and explained that there were no sides – just the two of them and the rest of the world.

Catra stood, her tail lashing again. “Really Adora? After what we saw yesterday, it seems more likely to you that some idiot villagers—who couldn’t even build themselves a proper _wall_ —were drawing up war strategies with the princesses than that Shadow Weaver was lying?”

“Why would she lie?”

“Because that’s Shadow Weaver’s whole deal! Hordak’s, too! Are you really still not getting this?”

Adora looked down at her boots and was very still. “But if she’s lying—if Thaymor wasn’t really a threat—then what would that make us?”

_It makes us survivors. Better to bite than be bitten._

But Adora had already continued, looking up to meet Catra’s eyes. “I can’t believe that, and I have no reason to think Shadow Weaver is lying. She raised us, Catra! She wants what’s best for us, and she always has.”

Adora may as well have slapped Catra in the face. She was so angry that her claws extended, and she dug them into her palms as she balled her hands into fists.

“What’s _best for us?!_ Is Shadow Weaver messing with your memories or something? Because we cannot be remembering the same childhood.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Catra.” Adora stood now as well, her body tensed as though she was about to spar. “She was hard on us, yes, but only because she was trying to prepare us for the world. I, for one, don’t think she needs to apologize for that.”

“Right. Of course. Stupid me. She doesn’t need to mess with your memories because you’ll believe anything she tells you.”

The pitch and volume of Adora’s voice rose, and her face was thunderous. “She’s our commanding officer. It’s our duty to follow her orders, to trust that she’s telling the truth!”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Adora closed the space between them, her few inches of height advantage forcing Catra to tilt her head back to hold her gaze. “Of course you would say that. Because you don’t care about anything – not duty, not order, not what’s best for Etheria –“ Adora was shouting into her face, now, “Well I do care, Catra. I _have_ to care. I have responsibilities. I can’t just run around doing whatever I want like you do!”

Catra couldn’t manage to speak for a moment after that, her vocal chords were so strained with fury. She glared daggers at Adora before finally managing to take a deep breath and find her voice again. “You know what? This whole thing was a mistake. It’s not going to work. Tell Shadow Weaver you want a new Lieutenant. She’ll be more than happy to assign you a better one, I’m sure.”

She turned to leave, but Adora grabbed her arm, hard. As Catra looked back at her, she saw something close to panic spreading over Adora’s face, and the tone of her voice changed. If Catra didn’t know better, she might have called it pleading. “Catra you can’t—please, don’t leave.” Her hand tightened over the brand on Catra’s arm as she pulled her closer. “Please. I—I need you with me.”

Catra scoffed, refusing to meet Adora’s eyes. “You really don’t, Adora. You never have.”

Adora’s grip tightened again—it was painful, now. “You’re wrong.” Her voice was shaking ever so slightly. She brought her other hand up to run her thumb along Catra’s jaw, fingers curled against her neck. Catra was surprised at the touch, and tipped her head back to meet Adora’s gaze.

“Adora—“ Her words were caught up in Adora’s mouth as their lips met. Her chest was on fire—whether from fury or some softer feeling, she couldn’t say. She didn’t know if this was the best thing that could happen, or the worst.

She pushed away as far as she could with Adora still gripping her arm, and her fur brushed out defensively. “Adora! You can’t just… do that!”

“Why not?”

_Because it’s not fair._

“You can’t have it both ways, Adora. You can’t spend all day eating up every lie Shadow Weaver tells you and then come back here and… do _that_ , say things like that.” She looked away. “Especially when they’re not true.”

Adora’s grip slackened. “What? I didn’t… I was telling the truth, Catra.”

“You walked out on me without so much as word when you came back with that stupid sword and got your precious promotion. You got everything you ever wanted. How could you _need_ me after that?”

Catra felt a perverse satisfaction at the confusion, the _hurt_ that spread across Adora’s face. Once she had asked the question, however, Catra wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

“But that’s how I know I do!” Adora said desperately, “I was miserable without you. I couldn’t sleep, and nothing made sense.”

“Then why didn’t you come and find me?”

“I was dealing with… a lot. She-Ra was… a lot to take in. I was sort of a mess. I didn’t want you to see me like that, and I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

“That’s a dumb excuse, Adora.”

Adora’s look of hurt and confusion deepened. The expression sent a complex emotion through Catra’s entire body—triumph, that she had the power to damage Adora so, and horror, that she had actually done it.

“Maybe it is,” Adora’s grip tightened again – surely there would be a bruise there tomorrow, “but it doesn’t change the fact that I need you with me.” Catra was silent. “And you need me, too. Just look what happened to you when we weren’t together. I couldn’t protect you.”

_She says that like_ I’m _not the one who brought_ her _back safely from Thaymor._

Catra could leave right now. Couldn’t she? Walk out the door, and Adora, just maybe, would hurt like she had hurt.

Except that was impossible, wasn’t it? Because Adora could never hurt like she did. They had been raised to experience pain differently.

It was further impossible because she would have nowhere to go. The moment she left Adora she lost whatever safety she’d gained by becoming a Lieutenant. Without a captain, she would have no rank. Nothing would stand between her and the other soldiers—her old squad who hated her, or others who would need no excuse to be casually cruel to someone without protection. And if Catra was without rank, without purpose, without Adora… well, Shadow Weaver might be a liar, but she never made idle threats. Catra wouldn’t survive a week if she left Adora now.

Unless she kept walking, right out of the Fright Zone.

_And do what? Live as a fugitive in the woods? Dodge Horde patrols and rogue princesses for the rest of my life? No chance – I’m dead that way, too._

She was hemmed in on every side, like she had been since childhood. She looked back up at Adora, still waiting, still close. Here she was, offering Catra everything she could possibly hope for—safety from the Horde and Shadow Weaver, security of rank, the occasional opportunity to blow things up, and… whatever it was that was happening now. Adora might still buy in to Shadow Weaver’s lies, but this, between the two of them, was something else. This was something only Adora and Catra could share.

_I couldn’t ask for anything more._

_Could I?_

Perhaps seeing some change in Catra’s eyes, Adora moved in closer. She brought her free hand up once more to cup the back of Catra’s neck, fingers tangling in her mane and thumb slotting gently into the soft crease where her jaw met her neck. Slowly, she pressed her lips to Catra’s again.

The kiss burned with a kind of finality—Adora, sealing her claim on Catra. As she deepened the kiss, Adora shifted her grip on Catra’s arm, fingers catching on the raw, raised skin of the Lieutenant’s brand. Everyone, it seemed, was going to leave their mark on her.

_Well._

Adora hesitated, waiting for her to respond.

_I can leave a mark, too._

Catra surged forward, her arms circling Adora’s neck as she took the other woman’s lower lip between her teeth. She bit down, and Adora grunted as they both tasted blood. She released her vise-grip on Catra’s arm and moved both hands to clutch at Catra’s hips as she stumbled backward slightly.

Their breath deepened, mingled. Without breaking the kiss, they wrestled with each other, trying to gain some advantage. Catra’s tail was lashing, its fur on end. She raked her unsheathed claws deeply into Adora’s back, tearing cloth and skin.

The sharp intake of Adora’s breath at this was immensely satisfying.

They tripped and tumbled into the bed, and the night passed in a muddle of kisses, bites, caresses, scratches.

They stayed in bed late the next morning. Neither could quite find it in herself to pull away from the other. They did not talk about what this might mean.

Eventually Adora got up to put some antiseptic on the gashes Catra had scratched into her back.

“Do you think they’ll scar?”

_I hope so._

Adora returned to the bed, where they twined together tightly. Catra wasn’t sure, at this point, if they were clinging together for survival or in an attempt to hold each other’s heads under water.

**

Catra settled into the new pattern of her life.

There were other missions after Thaymor—other villages to burn. Each took a toll, and with every one Adora became a little sterner, a little stiffer, a little slower to laughter. She spent most of her time with Shadow Weaver during the day, but always came back to Catra in the evening full of need. There was a kind of desperation in Adora, now—a desperation to justify herself. She needed to feel strong. She needed to feel like she was protecting someone. With Catra nearby, she always was.

But did that mean Catra had to feel weak beside her?

After the third village, Catra began finding ways to resist. They were small, pointless things, but they reminded her of her own existence, her own small power. The practice gave her a flash of the same feeling of triumph and strength she’d experienced when she fought the insect and when she’d made Adora hurt, except this was better, because Shadow Weaver would hate it and Adora wouldn’t understand it.

She left a tree standing, simply because she liked its shape, as her line of tanks cleared a swath of the Whispering Woods. She counted to ten before blasting a wheelwright’s shop to pieces, allowing the wheelwright and her apprentice to flee unharmed. She redirected a squadron away from a tiny, isolated home she found nestled in tree roots on a scouting mission.

And then there was Adora, and their bed, and the combination of the two, which made teasing her Force Captain so much easier than it had ever been before. Stern as Adora was becoming, it still took only a word or a touch for Catra to bring a flush to her cheeks, to elicit that exasperated sigh that cloaked a familiar, grudging delight. It was a small thing, all told, but Catra reveled in this power that she, and she alone, possessed.

Catra heard second-hand news of her old squadron. Lonnie and her cronies had all been promoted to Force Captain. No one seemed to know exactly what happened to Kyle, though a rumor did circulate that he washed out and went home in shame to work in the factories with his parents and that, inexplicably, Rogelio had gone with him.

_It must be nice to have a fallback._

She shuddered to think what might have happened to her if she’d stayed.

**

Catra’s tail still twitched with excitement each time they left the Fright Zone. From her place by Adora on the skiff, she inhaled the pungent air of Plumeria, ripe with pollen from the vast variety of plants that bloomed around them. She tried to keep her tail still. Lonnie was with them on the skiff, after all, and Catra didn’t like to show any of her cards when the new Force Captain was around. She couldn’t resist running her tail along Adora’s calf, though, to see the color rush to her cheeks.

Adora cleared her throat and pointed her sword to the tall tree rising above the silent village. Its leaves were sere and brown, and there weren’t many left clinging to the high branches.  “The Heart Blossom is the target,” she said, trying to ignore Catra’s tail curling around her ankle, “Previous operations have weakened it, and our intelligence officers tell us that the inhabitants have abandoned the village, but as you can see, it won’t to be easy to get to.”

It was true. The Plumerians may have abandoned their home, but before leaving, their princess had caused a massive hedge of thorny bushes to grow up around both tree and village. It was so high, and the branches so thick, that it made a kind of small, pointy forest, itself. It was a smart move—even as the bushes died in the poisoned soil, their sharp, woody skeletons barred the Horde’s path of attack.

“Of course we can’t discount the possibility that there _is_ actually a Rebel force waiting for us on the other side of that hedge,” Adora continued, “so we have to go in prepared for an ambush.” She looked to Catra, who decided it was time to keep her tail to herself. “Lieutenant, you’ll lead the squadron of tanks and dozers to break through those defenses. I’ll keep a lookout as She-Ra for signs of the Rebellion. Be ready to stop and fight at any moment.”

Lonnie spoke up, “Adora, there’s another Force Captain here. We don’t need a _Lieutenant_ to lead anything.” She spat out Catra’s rank as though it left a bad taste in her mouth.

“A Force Captain without a force,” Catra spat back, “These are Adora’s soldiers, remember? Was it a pity promotion, or was Shadow Weaver just desperate?”

“Catra.” Adora’s tone held a warning, and Catra clamped her mouth shut angrily. Adora continued, “We may hold the same rank, Lonnie, but Shadow Weaver put me in charge of this mission, so what I say goes. At this point, Catra has more field experience than you do, which makes her the best person to lead the squadron. You’ll follow her in the line of tanks.”

Lonnie looked like she wanted to say something else, but Adora turned and transformed into She-Ra. Catra stuck her tongue out at the unlucky Force Captain and leapt from the skiff to take up her position on a tank. Lonnie followed suit much more clumsily.

“Let’s do this,” said Adora, and they all advanced.

There was no Rebel ambush, but there were booby traps.

Catra had the immense pleasure of watching as Lonnie’s tank, which rumbled past Catra’s despite Adora’s order, hit a thin tripwire that stretched in front of the hedge. Three arrows zipped from the thorny branches to lodge themselves in the armor of Lonnie’s tank, where they crackled with electricity that immobilized the machine.

Catra called a halt, quickly retracing the arrows’ trajectory with her sharp eyes until she found the rigging that had held them in place. No live marksmen, then. Just preset traps for idiots like Lonnie to fall into.

Catra called up a small group of soldiers— _not_ Lonnie—to look for more tripwires. Meanwhile, she climbed carefully into the hedge, where she leapt from one thorny branch to another, locating and disabling more rigged arrows.

When Catra was fairly certain they had found all of the surprises the Rebellion had left for them, the line of tanks and dozers advanced again, slowly.

It took nearly half a day to break through. They lost one more tank to a trap, a disguised pit, this time, and they had to stop every few meters to check for more possible snares. Finally, though, the hedge lay behind them with a tunnel hacked and burned through its center, and the dying Heart Blossom rose in front of them.

Adora stepped forward, still inhabiting She-Ra’s tall, muscular form. She held her sword in front of her, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. As she did so, a shadowy red light formed around the weapon—some new power-up from Shadow Weaver, no doubt. Adora opened her eyes and drove the glowing sword into the tree, levering at the edge of the smooth, bulbous runestone lodged in the trunk. Catra could smell wood burning and sap boiling.

While Adora was occupied with the Heart Blossom, the Horde soldiers, now free of their machines, stood guard, looking outward from the small clearing around the tree into the thick foliage beyond. There was still no sign of the Rebellion.

“What is that?” Lonnie pointed to the edge of the trees, where Catra saw a cloud of shimmering pink, fading.

_So Princess Sparkle has returned._

“That—sweet, dumb Lonnie—is a princess.”

Catra left a small force by the tree with Adora—who did not break her focus on the Heart Blossom—and led the rest of the soldiers into the trees after the spy.

There were two of them—the same two Catra and Adora had encountered when they retrieved the sword. Catra supposed she had the archer to thank for the booby traps. The teleportation did not make tracking them easy, but the Horde flooded the forest, and wherever the rebels appeared, soldiers were there to meet them. Catra’s tail twitched and her pulse quickened as she felt the Horde begin to hem them in.

_Not long now._

Catra heard confused shouts from the soldiers to her left and right. They had lost them.

_How? We were so close._

They couldn’t have gone far. Catra doubted they’d actually gotten away; more likely they had wised up and hidden somewhere. She growled and clawed her way up the nearest tree. She perched on a high branch, surveying the forest below her. Three soldiers ran by beneath her, shouting.

_Of course._

Training in the Horde was rigorous, but, Catra had found, often neglected to teach soldiers to _look up._ Any success she’d had during her cadet training came with an attack from above her squad-mates’ unsuspecting heads.

She leapt to another tree, and another, quickly outpacing the soldiers scrabbling below as she scanned the foliage around her.

The princess and her friend had gotten farther than she thought they would. The shouts and crashes of the searching soldiers had faded to a distant riot by the time she saw the tell-tale wobble of a branch. Silently, weightlessly, Catra leapt to a thick branch above the two rebels and observed.

“Bow, you have to get out of here.” This from the princess, who leaned against the trunk looking drained. “There are soldiers everywhere – no matter where I teleport they find us! I can cause a distraction while you sneak away.”

“I’m not leaving you behind Glimmer!” said her companion, adjusting his position to help prop her up.

The sparkly one looked positively devastated, “I should have listened to you when you wanted to leave earlier—but I just _had_ to get a look at the new Horde captain who’s been destroying all those towns…”

“I can hardly believe it’s that same girl we saw in the woods. She seems… different.”

“I knew we should have fought harder to get that sword back. Why can’t I do anything right?” Glimmer buried her face in her hands.

“It’ll be OK, Glimmer. We’ll figure it out.” Bow put a hand on her shoulder, “Look, one of us needs to get back to Brightmoon, to tell the Queen what happened to the Heart Blossom. If you can’t teleport us both, go without me.”

“Well I can’t leave you behind, either! We’ll just have to lay low here for a bit. I just need a little time to catch my breath, and maybe for the Horde soldiers to give up looking for us. Then I can get us out of here.”

_This would make me sick if it wasn’t so pathetic. No wonder they’re losing._

Catra had heard enough. They both looked up with a gasp as she landed in front of them on their branch. “Sure, stick around for a while. Give the rest of my force some time to catch up.” She unclipped the laser baton from her belt.

“It’s you,” said the archer.

“Obviously.”

“Please,” said the princess, “don’t.”

Catra’s tail lashed—it was fun to play with them, first. “Is that your best argument?”

“Please,” she said again, and Catra noticed a few tear stains streaking her face, “I know you’re not a bad person.”

Catra huffed. “If you think that, Twinkle, then you don’t know the first thing about me.” She raised the baton and let the charge gather. The rebels wrapped their arms around each other, clinging together in preparation for the blow, each protecting and giving comfort to the other.

From where her head was buried in Bow’s neck, Glimmer tried one last appeal. “You don’t have to do this.”

Catra paused.

What would she do, after she zapped them? Drag them back to Adora, lay them at her feet like a good little pet? All so that Adora could do the same for Shadow Weaver?

The baton sizzled. It was fully charged and ready to be fired.

Catra’s gaze fell to the spot where the rebels’ hands had intertwined. Surely they were the same age she was, but they seemed younger— more innocent, maybe. They didn’t seem to understand how much the world could hurt them, how much they could hurt each other. Or maybe they did, and that’s why they clung together now. A memory of herself and Adora the night after Thaymor flashed through her mind.

Catra flicked an ear. She didn’t _need_ to hurt them, and she didn’t particularly _want_ to.

_Why bother? The princess did save my life once. Really, it’s only fair to return the favor, just this once._

She didn’t need Adora’s approval. She had… other things… from Adora. If anyone even found out about this, Adora would protect her. And no matter what she did, she wouldn’t gain Shadow Weaver’s favor. She’d stopped trying for and caring about that years ago.

Catra sighed and lowered the baton. “You’re right. I don’t.” After a moment of silence, the pair looked up uncertainly. Catra clipped the weapon back to her belt as the charge died.

“Do you have enough juice to make another jump—with both of you?”

The small princess stood. “I… I think so…”

Catra grunted, “Make it count, then.”

The princess placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Whatever. This is _not_ because I like you.”

The princess’ mouth quirked in a small smile. Then, the two rebels were gone in a cloud of fluttering sparkles.

Catra stood there for a long moment, staring at the space where they’d been as the glare of their passing faded from her vision.

When she leapt from the branch to the forest floor, Lonnie was waiting for her with an ugly, satisfied sneer contorting her face.

“Really, _Lieutenant_ Catra? I don’t know which disappoints me more: that you let the princess go, or that you did it right where I could see the whole thing. Honestly, being Adora’s fulltime bed-warmer has made you soft.”

Catra snarled, and before Lonnie could budge, Catra’s feet were connecting with her chest. Lonnie just chuckled as Catra stood over her, tail lashing, claws out, and fur on end.

“Oh Catra, you’re so dead.”

With effort, Catra stilled her tail and retracted her claws. Taking a deep breath, she coaxed most of her fur back down as well. She knew better than to let Lonnie get to her like that. Outright physical challenges never seemed to go Catra’s way. Bluffing and manipulation, on the other hand, was a safer route.

“Adora’s bed may have made me soft, yes,” she inspected the tips of her claws disinterestedly, “but it does mean that I have friends in high places, Lonnie. What’re you gonna do – Tell on me?”

Without another word, Catra turned on her heel and leapt up into the trees. She made her way back to Adora, savoring the way the clear air of Plumeria whistled through the leaves and the way the thick pollen from its flowers tickled her nose.

**

Lonnie told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading. Also, sorry (again) for the long hiatus - things have been absolutely bonkers lately... but holy doodle hold on to your butts because the final chapter is coming your way soon(ish)!


	5. Infinite Regress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this was going to be the final chapter of this fic but, well, it's not. More on that at the end. Thanks everyone for sticking with it this far!

Shadow Weaver’s summons came the evening after the raiding party returned to the Fright Zone.

Catra stepped hesitantly into the Black Garnet chamber. Shadow Weaver was nowhere to be seen, but Adora was there, recharging her powers no doubt, standing next to the Garnet with her sword slung across her back and a concerned look on her face. Catra spared her a rueful smile.

“Hey Adora. Just like old times, huh?”

“Catra, don’t. This is serious.”

Before she could reply, she felt Shadow Weaver’s presence behind her, cutting her off from the only exit.

_This is going to be bad._

“Lieutenant Catra,” Shadow Weaver began unctuously, “I’ve had report of your failure in Plumeria.”

It was going to be bad, regardless, so she might as well fight back.

“Oh really? You mean when I led the squadron that cut a path to the Heart Blossom? Because I thought that was a rousing success.”

“I will not tolerate your disrespect!” Shadow Weaver loomed taller, her body distending in that disconcerting way she had. “You allowed a princess to escape! How even someone as incompetent as you could sour this victory, I will never know.”

Catra crossed her arms. “What’s the big deal? We won! We completed our mission! What difference would it have made if we captured that princess?”

“That was the princess of Bright Moon. Her capture would have been a devastating blow to the heart of the Rebellion.”

_Dammit. Of course the best bargaining chip for the Rebellion’s surrender is the one I let slip away._

_I_ decided _to let slip away._

Time to deflect.

“Capturing Plumeria’s runestone was a devastating blow to the Rebellion.” Catra gestured behind the Black Garnet to where the Heart Blossom, rather the worse for wear from Adora’s prying it loose from the tree, sat on a small platform. “Don’t you get it? We’re winning. We’re going to win. Or don’t you have any faith in She-Ra?”   

The air around Shadow Weaver darkened ominously. “This time, you have gone too far.” Catra tensed, “Force Captain Lonnie has informed me that this was not a matter of simple incompetence, but that you had the Princess in your grasp and that you allowed her to go free.”

“What?” Adora’s incredulous response floated over them. Catra did not look to see the expression on her face – she needed to focus on Shadow Weaver, to find the telltale signs of her first strike.

Shadow Weaver also ignored Adora’s interjection, “Such a betrayal of loyalty to the Horde – and to your Force Captain – can only be met with the harshest of punishments.” She raised her hands, which crackled with red lightning.

_I’m not going to just lay down and take this. Not this time._

Catra tensed, ready to spring away.

But then there was Adora, miraculously, _finally_ , standing between her and Shadow Weaver, and Catra’s startled memory flashed to that first time in the Black Garnet chamber – the crackle and sear of magic and a tiny, young Adora stepping in front of the shadows with her arms outstretched.

“This is ridiculous,” said Adora, “Catra isn’t a _traitor_. She wouldn’t do something like that. Lonnie was jealous that I assigned Catra to lead the tanks – she probably made this up to get Catra in trouble.”

Catra’s heart was bursting.

_Sure, I was depending on Adora’s protection, but it’s a whole other thing to actually_ see _it happening._

The crackle of Shadow Weaver’s magic had stilled. “Adora—“ she began, and her tone of voice chilled Catra.

“Were there any witnesses besides Lonnie?” Adora demanded. She stood unflinching before the pillar of shadow.

Shadow Weaver let her hands drop slowly. “No,” she admitted.

“Then there’s no real proof,” Adora said with finality.

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed. “Lonnie outranks Catra. It is customary to accept the word of a Force Captain over that of a Lieutenant.”

Adora shifted one of her feet slightly, “Well… I’m a Force Captain, too, and I’m She-Ra, and Catra is my Lieutenant. I vouch for her. She didn’t do this.”

The shadows receded. “Very well,” said Shadow Weaver, “I will consider this matter resolved. But rest assured, Lieutenant Catra,” her eyes found Catra behind Adora, “if I hear any other rumors of such traitorous conduct, your Force Captain will not be able to protect you.”

The Black Garnet itself seemed to sigh slowly into the silence that followed.

“Adora,” Shadow Weaver barked abruptly, “You are dismissed. I will speak to Lieutenant Catra privately.”

_That can’t be good._

Adora started slightly but didn’t move.

“Leave us.” Shadow Weaver’s tone did not invite comment or argument. Adora turned slightly to meet Catra’s eyes before making her way past Shadow Weaver to the door. Once there, she turned again and watched as Shadow Weaver caused the door to crash down in front of her, sealing the room. Catra had no doubt that Adora would be waiting just outside when Shadow Weaver was done with her.

Catra and Shadow Weaver regarded each other for a tense moment.

Shadow Weaver broke the silence. “Take care, Lieutenant Catra, that the trouble you cause does not outstrip your usefulness.”

_This again._

“Or I’ll face dire consequences. Right. I get it.”

“Do not be flippant with me, Lieutenant.” Catra nearly laughed at the familiar line.

_When did Shadow Weaver get to be so predictable?_

“You know, Shadow Weaver, it’s not really up to you to decide if I’m useful or not anymore, is it?” Against her better judgement, she stepped closer to the wraith, “I think that’s up to Adora now, and she seems to have made a pretty final decision.”

At that, Shadow Weaver let out a dry, sickening sound from behind her mask. It took Catra a moment to realize she was _chuckling_.

“I thought I had raised you to be wiser, Catra,” Shadow Weaver leaned in close, and Catra resisted the instinct to make herself smaller, “Don’t you know that I control the both of you? I always have, and I always will.”

She was so close, and Catra was so angry, and…

_Adora finally stood up to her._

Catra swiped her claws at the mask in front of her, knocking it slightly askew and tearing at the pallid skin underneath. She sprang backwards as Shadow Weaver let out a thunderous screech and clutched at her face.

“I guess you were controlling _that,_ then.” Catra couldn’t resist another jab as she readied herself for retaliation, “Come on old woman, when did you get so _weak_?”

One of Shadow Weaver’s hand shot out, casting a beam of red lightning towards her. Catra leapt out of the way easily, landing lightly on all fours a few feet to the left of the beam. Shadow Weaver roared again and cast her magic with both hands. Catra sprang up, kicking one foot against the Black Garnet to propel her into the pipes above.

Shadow Weaver was furious, casting lightning wildly around the room. “That’s right,” she snarled, “run away. It’s the only thing you’ve ever been good at. You’ve learned nothing from me!”

From her vantage point near the ceiling, Catra saw the door tremble and shift – Adora, large and glowing as She-Ra, was forcing it open.

“You’re wrong,” Catra said, leaping down close to Shadow Weaver to swipe at her dark robes, “I’ve learned everything from you.” Catra felt confident, strong.

“Catra!” Adora was in the room now.

_Good. We can take her down together._

Catra darted around Shadow Weaver, causing the wraith to spin frantically as she attempted to follow. “I know your every move.” As Catra spoke, she felt the truth of the words, felt the power that came from toying with her prey. “I can predict when you’ll strike,” she waited, let Shadow Weaver almost hit her, moved at the last second, “I know how to dodge, how to _resist_.” She sprang back towards the ceiling. In her exhilaration she lost track of Adora and focused solely on her target. “You thought you were punishing me all these years?” She waited until Shadow Weaver turned towards the sound of her voice, her mask with its runestone shard lifted to her, open and unprotected, and made her move. “You were training me for this day.” She descended, fast and wild, claws outstretched, already feeling the mask shatter under her fury and triumph.

But trust makes even the quickest reflexes useless.

“Catra stop!”

Her claws did not connect with the mask, did not rip it in half, did not crush the runestone shard to useless dust.

Instead, she was thrown bodily against the wall, her breath gone, her lip split and swelling from a blow she had not known to dodge.

Catra flicked her ears to clear the ringing in her head. Time whirled in a vacuum as her brain struggled to catch up with her body.

_Adora…_

_Adora would never…_

Adora had.

She came to stand over Catra, bright and tall and She-Ra, looking down at her with wide eyes. Shadow Weaver appeared behind her, placed a hand on She-Ra’s shoulder.

“Good work, Force Captain.” Adora was still staring down at her, looking nearly as stunned as Catra felt. “This has proven to be a most entertaining and… illuminating incident, don’t you think?” She looked directly at Catra and let out another of her dry, horrible chuckles. “Now. I have something of actual importance to attend to. I will leave her to you, Adora.”

“Wh-What?”

“She is your Lieutenant after all. You are responsible for her actions as well as their consequences. It’s up to you to decide if the trouble she causes is worth your effort to control. Isn’t that right, Catra?” Catra looked down.

“Y-Yes, Shadow Weaver,” Adora stammered. “This… This won’t happen again.”

“Yes,” Shadow Weaver’s voice receded as she glided from the room, “I know it won’t.”

The chamber grew so quiet Catra could hear Adora breathing.

“Catra? Are you… Are you alright?” She stepped closer.

“Don’t touch me,” Catra hissed. She ran her tongue over her broken lip, tasted its foreboding, iron tang. Her eyes finally made their way back to Adora, who was still standing tall and bright and She-Ra.

“I’m sorry, Catra. I didn’t… I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could have let me finish what I started.”

_Or helped._

“Look, this is serious. We’re not cadets anymore – this isn’t a game.”

Catra might have laughed, if everything didn’t hurt so much. She sat up, steadying herself against the wall. “It’s never been a game to me, Adora.”

“Then why do you keep getting yourself into these situations?” Adora sighed. “It’s like Shadow Weaver says, I’m responsible for you. I just – I have to be better at keeping you in line.”

Catra’s memory flickered again, back to that first day when Adora stood in front of her, protected her.

_‘Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control.’_

The memory seared like the magic had done.

_I should have remembered the whole thing. Maybe I could have avoided this._

Catra got to her feet, still probing her smarting, swelling lip. “Shadow Weaver must be so proud. You’re turning out to be everything she wants you to be.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Adora’s face was stern stone now, like some righteous statue casting judgement.

Silence stretched between them and grew brittle, finally shattered as She-Ra disappeared in a lurid thunderstorm.

Adora, now smaller and less threatening, sighed and took a step toward Catra.

“Look, I really am sorry. But you have to know that you really messed up this time. You understand that now, right?”

“Yeah. Sure.” The pain in Catra’s clenched jaw had now outstripped the ache from her split lip.

“Good. I’m just trying to look out for you, like I promised.”

In the sudden cavern of Catra’s chest, something guttered and died.

Adora moved closer and sighed again. “Can we just…“ Catra’s stomach clenched as Adora raised her arms, “go to bed?” She placed her hands on Catra’s shoulders, “I think we could both use some rest.” It was a comforting gesture, except that Adora clutched a little too tightly, and Catra’s muscles were tense.

“Yes. Let’s.”

***

And now dim evening closed in around the two of them, much like it had that night when everything started. Adora said nothing when Catra took up her old place at the end of the bed rather than by her side. She curled against Adora’s legs, one eye half-open, pretending to snore lightly. Catra shifted slightly on the bed, careful not to jostle Adora.

_How did we get here? Were we always going to end up like this?_

She waited until Adora’s breathing shifted to the gentle roll of sleep and listened to it carefully for a while. In one moment, the meaning of that once-calming sound had changed. Now, it meant control. Delusion.

It was still a promise.

A promise that Catra didn’t want anymore.

Catra hopped nimbly off the bed to land soundlessly on the floor. She only paused once, just as she was slipping out the door, to look back at Adora’s sleeping form.

Her mind felt numb, disconnected from her body as her feet carried her quietly through the deserted corridors. She side-stepped the humming, patrolling security bots without thought. Finally, she found herself in the skiff bay, staring at the dormant hunks of metal.

_I’ll need a key._

She cast about her, looking for the flat metal box that housed the skiff keys all organized in neat rows. Before she found it, a gleam caught her eye. The skiff bay was located on the fringe of the Fright Zone’s major operations, and from the bay there extended a long launch causeway which was now glittering with a light very different from the sickly yellow-green emitted by the Horde machinery. Catra walked out along the causeway to investigate, and drew her breath in sharply as she saw the source of the light. The largest moon had fully risen, and the next was making its way above the horizon. Their combined light was illuminating the causeway.

_I never noticed this before._

She continued out to the end of the causeway, stopping to look outward. It ended in a high ledge that descended perpendicularly into the orange dust of the Fright Zone soil far below. Even accustomed to heights as she was, looking at the drop made Catra a bit dizzy. She took a step back and looked up to the sky once more to see a third moon struggling to shine around one of the massive crags which framed the Fright Zone.

It was almost beautiful.

Almost.

_I should stop wasting time. I need to find the keys to a skiff._

“Catra? What are you doing out here?” She froze at Adora’s voice behind her.

_How did I not notice her following me?_

“Hey, Adora,” she managed to relax her voice into something resembling its ordinary tone, even twisted her face into a small smirk as she turned. Adora stood there behind her, blonde hair looking discolored in the mixed moonlight, sword hung over her shoulder as always, and her hands clasped behind her back. The look on her face was unreadable. “I just came out here to look at the sky.” Catra lifted her face to the moons again. “And to think.” Her gaze flicked back down to meet Adora’s. “If that’s still allowed, that is,” she added, acidly.

Adora’s face twisted with exasperation. “Of course it’s—“ she trailed off with a sigh and took a step closer. Catra noted that Adora was blocking her way back into the skiff bay, that there was only a ledge and open air three steps behind her, hated that it was something she needed to notice.

“What are you thinking about?” Catra narrowed her eyes, and was gratified as Adora looked away.

Catra took a breath. “Destiny,” she said, simply.

“What?”

“I was thinking about destiny – about the time you said I was part of yours.”

“I still believe that, Catra—“

“I don’t want to be part of your destiny, Adora.” Adora’s mouth gaped.

_I didn’t really mean to say that out loud._

The tactical part of Catra’s brain was telling her she needed to distract Adora, feed her some story she wanted to hear, get her out of the way to clear a path to the skiffs. The rest of her brain ignored that part, and continued.

“It hurts too much.”

This time, the hurt on Adora’s face did not make Catra feel triumphant. She just felt tired. She couldn’t stop the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes.

“Catra, I’m sorry about what happened today, really. I just– I didn’t– You were _attacking_ Shadow Weaver. I figured it was better if I stopped you than if she did.”

“She wouldn’t have stopped me.” The words were out before Catra really understood them, and she paused for moment to think them over.

_Shadow Weaver_ couldn’t _have stopped me._

Catra’s exhaustion caught fire in her gut, became something tinged with fury and indignation, and, beneath it all, a sense of power.

“I would’ve beaten her. We would have been free.”

“Catra that’s insane. I mean, she’s _Shadow Weaver_ —Hordak’s second in command!”

“And she doesn’t have any real power but what we give her.” Catra stepped close to Adora, “What _you_ give her.”

Adora’s face crumpled with doubt. Catra put a hand on her shoulder, giving in to one last, wild, and entirely unfounded hope. “I’m leaving, Adora. Come with me.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to be what she’s made you.”

“I— I can’t just leave. I can’t run away from my responsibility. There are people here who need me.”

Catra’s hand tightened on Adora’s shoulder. She wasn’t really surprised at Adora’s answer, but it still stung. “Yeah,” she said, “Well, I’m not one of them anymore.”

“Catra—“

She cut Adora off with a quick kiss. “Shadow Weaver doesn’t control you. I can’t stay here and try to convince you of that anymore, but I hope you figure it out on your own soon.” She broke gently from Adora and walked past her towards the skiff bay.

“Catra wait!” She paused and turned back towards Adora. “You can’t just take a skiff and go.”

Catra smirked. “Why not?”

“Because you—where will you go? The woods? You’ll never make it out there on your own. What about princesses?”

_I’d rather take my chances with them than stay here anymore._

“Don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself.”

“But—“

“Don’t underestimate me, Adora,” Catra’s voice lowered, nearing a growl. As she spoke, she felt the truth of her words, just as she had earlier that day in the Black Garnet chamber, “I took on a monster bare-handed and won. I got you home safely after Thaymor. I led us to the Heart Blossom.”

_I survived growing up in the Fright Zone._

She stood tall and strong, feeling better than she had in a long time, “I’ve made it farther than anyone ever thought I would, and I’m not stopping here.” She turned to go again.

“Catra.” She sighed and faced Adora once more.

“What now?”

“You won’t get far without these.” Adora brought her hands from behind her back to show Catra what she held there: the box of skiff keys.

_Did she get smarter at some point when I wasn’t paying attention?_

“You took it?”

“Yeah, I thought…” Adora’s grip tightened visibly on the box. “Just tell me one thing, Catra. Was Lonnie telling the truth? Did you really let that princess go?”

Catra really didn’t want the last thing she said to Adora to be a lie. “Yeah. I did. I deactivated my weapon and told them to run.”

Adora had the audacity in that moment to look betrayed. “I didn’t believe it. I never thought you would do something like that.”

Catra’s ire rose. “What? Think for myself?”

Adora dropped the box with a clang and stepped over it, barring it from Catra. “Why would you do it?” Without waiting for an answer, she went on, “You’re defecting?”

“What? No, why would I—“

But Adora wasn’t listening. “For what? Spite? That’s low, Catra, even for you.”

Catra nearly laughed through her anger.

_Fine. Adora needs me to be the villain? Done._

She fell into the familiar line, “Oh Adora, you know nothing’s too low for me.”

Adora unslung the sword from her back.

“Seriously Adora? You’re going to bring She-Ra into this?”

“No, I just…” She swallowed and adjusted her stance, low and threatening, “I can’t let you leave, Catra. Not if you’re headed to Bright Moon.”

Catra let out a frustrated sigh from between clenched teeth. She’d tried persuasion, tried logic, tried appealing to Adora’s emotions – nothing had worked. In true Adora fashion, she wasn’t even hearing the real reason Catra was leaving.

_I guess I’ll just have to fight her, then._

_Fight Adora._

_And win._

She unsheathed her claws. “Alright then, Princess,” Adora narrowed her eyes in annoyance, “Come and get me.”

Catra waited, body tensed and ready, until Adora made her first strike. The blunt edge of the sword crashed into the metal of the causeway as Catra rolled to the side, then sprang up past Adora’s shoulder, clipping Adora’s cheek with the claws of one hand.

“You’ll have to be faster than that,” she taunted, as Adora struggled to turn. The metal box was between them now, and Adora stepped over it protectively again. She was still slightly off balance from the missed blow, and Catra took the opportunity to dive under the sword towards Adora’s feet, where she twisted and rolled, tangling in Adora’s legs until she lost her footing and toppled. Catra heard the sword clatter and the rough expulsion of breath as Adora hit the ground, but she didn’t stop to see her handiwork. She continued rolling until she collided with the box, grasped it, leapt up, and began running back towards the skiff bay.

She didn’t get far. Adora managed to snag one of her feet and pull her down again. The box went skittering away as Adora dragged her backwards. While Catra struggled to right herself, Adora staggered to her feet. Catra sank her claws into the skin of Adora’s calves, then the red fabric of her jacket, to pull herself up. She was nearly upright again when Adora’s fist connected hard with her shoulder and she was thrown back towards the causeway ledge. She was disoriented as she landed, shook her head in an attempt to clear it, noticed that Adora’s sword was close by. She grasped it and used it to lever herself into a standing position. She raised her eyes to see Adora already charging at her. Catra let instinct take over – she side-stepped and added an extra shove to Adora’s momentum to send her sprawling forward.

Right off the end of the causeway.

“Adora!” Catra shrieked. Time froze as she stared at the empty space where Adora’s body had seemed to hang briefly before falling from sight.

_How far is that drop? It’s not that high, is it? She-Ra could probably survive it, and surely Adora gets some of that superpower stuff even when she’s not using the sword… Maybe… Maybe she’s…_

“Catra! I’m down here!”

Catra stepped to the edge and looked over. Her heart surged as she saw Adora clinging to the metal girding below the ledge.

_She’s ok._

“Catra, help me up.”

Catra knelt without thinking, ready to extend her hand until the bottom fell from her stomach abruptly at a realization.

_This is my chance to get out of here._

_This will be my_ only _chance to get out of here._

She gripped the hilt of Adora’s sword tightly with both hands and didn’t move.

“Catra?”

_This is it._

“No.” She stood and examined the sword, looked along its gleaming edge, stared for a moment into the rough shard of the Black Garnet forced into the hilt, dark and red like an angry, infected wound. “You know Adora, you finding this sword was the worst thing that ever happened to me. And it didn’t even really happen to _me_.”

“Catra don’t do this.”

She felt the two halves of her life crashing together, an earthquake of attachment and frustration, knew that she was about to leave it all behind – the one good thing: Adora; and the myriad bad: war, Lonnie, Shadow Weaver, Adora.

She took a deep breath.

“I wonder what I could’ve been if I’d left sooner.” She examined the sword for a moment more, then tossed it over the ledge and watched the small puff of dust as it landed in the dirt below Adora. She looked, finally, into Adora’s face, and it nearly ripped her apart.

“Goodbye, Adora. I really am going to miss you.”

She turned, then, and refused to look back, even as her stolen skiff sailed over Adora’s small form still clinging to the causeway.

**

Catra inhaled gratefully as her skiff glided out of the Fright Zone’s thick green air. The purplish musk of the Whispering Woods was already detectable on the cold, clear breeze as she steered toward the dark mass of trees in the distance. Her hair blew wildly, as free as she was, and everything shimmered like magic in the unobstructed light of the moons.

_What now?_

_Anything I choose._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.  
> Yes.  
> It turns out there's a lot more to this story than I originally thought, so there will be a second part. We'll learn more about what's going on with Adora and also I think this AU Catra deserves at least a little fluff, which is feasible now that she's out of the Fright Zone.  
> There will be a short epilogue to this part (hoping to post it before Season 2 drops) which will set us up for Part 2.  
> As always, thank you so so so much for reading!


	6. Epilogue - Adora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments you left on the last chapter. I didn't get the chance to respond to them because I was busy furiously working away at this chapter, but I do appreciate them.  
> Anyway here it is:

_She is dreaming again – those snatches of strange scenes and half-muffled voices from the sword that she has never mentioned to Catra, because what could Catra do about it, and besides she’d probably just call her crazy because who gets sword-visions, and it is better to stay quiet because she needs to be strong, Catra needs her to be strong…_

_Catra._

_Catra is here. She is in the dream. Muted colors swirl and coalesce into her familiar form, tail swaying and ears twitching as she faces Adora in the gray, formless dreamscape. Catra has never been in the dreams before, only a solid, comforting presence when Adora wakes from them._

_“Hey, Adora.” She steps close and everything about her is familiar, is home. Adora puts her hands on Catra’s shoulders and neither of them flinches. It’s good. It’s like things used to be. Before._

_“You’re here,” Adora says, “You didn’t leave after all.”_

_And then Catra’s eyes darken. She twists away from Adora’s arms, steps back, and Adora feels, but does not see, Catra’s claws tear at her cheek._

_“Of course I left,” she hisses, “And I’m probably being torn apart by princesses right now, all because of you.”_

_“Because of me?” Tears slip down Adora’s face. She can’t stop them. Catra is the only person from whom she has never been able to hide her tears._

_“If you’d taken better care of me,” says Catra, “If you’d watched me more closely, kept me out of trouble, I wouldn’t have left.” The air around them has reddened, and a biting wind whips their hair. Adora shivers. “I wouldn’t have put myself in danger.” The wind rips through Catra’s body, and she explodes into roiling tatters. Her voice whispers close in Adora’s ear, “I’ll die because of you.”_

_Before Adora can move, before she can think, another voice calls to her, clanging like an iron bell in the lurid dreamspace._

_“Adora.”_

_A tall, imposing figure looms over her. It is the woman from the sword. This is not a surprise. She is always in the dreams. Her shape is a void, a tall faceless pillar of shadow._

_“Adora.” She says again, and her voice is low and clear._

_“I’m here,” Adora replies, instinctively straightening her spine._

_“You must bring order to Etheria.”_

_“I know,” Adora says, and seeing Catra disappear twice in one night makes her impudent, “You always say that.”_

_“You have a duty to this world.”_

_“I understand, but Catra—“_

_“Your friend needed your protection, and you failed her. Etheria needs you as well; you must not fail again.” The red air darkens ominously. Adora reacts to this without thinking, falling back on instincts molded early in her childhood. Every muscle goes tense, and she is very still. She will not provoke the darkness with movement. With effort, she forces her mind blank. She will not even provoke the darkness with thought._

_“I won’t fail you. I won’t fail Etheria.”_

_“See that you don’t.” The figure of the woman in the sword expands, engulfing everything in the void of her shapeless body._

**

Adora woke violently, sitting bolt upright as she gasped air like a knife into her lungs. Her hand went out, but she knew long before her palm collided with the cold mattress beside her that Catra was gone and there was no comfort.

She curled her hands into fists amid the blankets and tried to slow her breath.

She couldn’t calm herself down sitting in bed. She got up and paced instead, the steady rhythm of her steps helping to tame her erratic breathing. She wouldn’t have to try to sleep again that night – it was nearly morning. It had been nearly morning when she collapsed into her vast and empty bed, after…

Her first task, after pulling herself back onto the causeway through a combination of improvised handholds and sheer force of will, was to retrieve the sword from the dirt where Catra had thrown it. She had to pull herself up, because, of course, letting go was not an option – impossible that she could soar for a few precious seconds before crashing into the dust, impossible that she could abandon her responsibility to Etheria, and to the Horde, for something as selfish as strained arms and a gaping heart. To let go was just as impossible as leaving with Catra, escaping together, because there was nothing to escape in the Fright Zone, was there? This was home. There was nothing to be afraid of as long as you did what you were supposed to. And that made sense. Didn’t it?

Her first task was to retrieve the sword because her next stop was the Black Garnet chamber, and it would not do to appear before Shadow Weaver without the sword. She was numb as she made her way there. She couldn’t quite understand what had just happened – that Catra had left the Fright Zone, had left _her_.

Had left her hanging from the high causeway over an uncertain drop.

Maybe… Catra had made a rash decision – maybe that was all. She rushed into things like this all the time. She was always getting into trouble, but she always managed to get out again. Maybe Catra would realize her mistake and come back, talk her way out of it like she always did. And Adora would help, like she always tried to, though she knew she always managed to help wrong somehow.  

But this time was different, Adora knew. It was bigger. Catra had attacked Shadow Weaver, then stolen a skiff and headed towards Bright Moon. All after she had helped a princess escape.

The princess... What had she said to Catra? What could she have offered that would make Catra defect? And why was that enough for Catra to work towards something bigger than herself when Adora, and the Horde, and everything they had ever known, weren’t? People didn’t just leave their home and fly off into the woods unless their world was turned upside down.

So what had turned Catra’s world upside down?

Adora’s stomach felt hollow and her throat tightened as she asked herself that question. She thought of the sickening thud of She-Ra’s fist connecting with Catra’s body in the Black Garnet chamber. She shouldn’t have done that. She knew she shouldn’t have done that. She shouldn’t have done it, but what should she have done instead? What Catra was doing was bad – if she’d succeeded, Hordak surely would have killed her. But Adora had known, known the moment she had knocked Catra off course, that she had done a wrong thing. And the look on Catra’s face afterwards terrified her, made her worry that it was an unforgivably wrong thing. She didn’t know how to apologize for something like that, and she still didn’t know what else she could have done.

She had arrived then at the Black Garnet chamber feeling shaky and nauseous. And then Shadow Weaver was before her (didn’t she ever sleep?), and Adora realized she had no idea what she should report…

She lied.

She hadn’t really intended to, but when she opened her mouth, only half-truths fell out.

She told Shadow Weaver only that Catra had left and taken a skiff. She did not say that they had spoken or that they had fought or that Catra had abandoned her. She said instead that she had woken to find that Catra was not where she was supposed to be, and that, on further investigation, a skiff was missing.

Shadow Weaver had not said much in response, merely narrowed her eyes and asked, “Do you have any idea where she might have gone?”

Adora thought of the way Catra’s tail twitched when she was among trees, “If I had to guess, I would say she headed for the Whispering Woods.”

“To Bright Moon?”

“No.” Adora’s voice came out as a whisper.

What if Catra realized her mistake and came back? Adora could protect her from the worst consequences if no one knew she had tried to defect.

She cleared her throat, “She wouldn’t have gone to Bright Moon.”

“Very well, then,” and Shadow Weaver had turned away.

“Are we not—“ Adora swallowed nervously as Shadow Weaver faced her again, “Are we not going to send a force after her, to bring her back?”

“No.” Shadow Weaver loomed a bit taller, “One rogue Lieutenant on a stolen skiff hardly seems worth the resources, especially as we prepare for another assault into Princess territory. Don’t you agree, Force Captain?” She brought her icy hand to Adora’s cheek, smoothed a stray hair back behind her ear in that gesture that Adora had always found equal parts horrifying and wonderful. She kept her hair neat enough these days that Shadow Weaver rarely had a reason to touch her so. It was one small protection Adora had forged for herself against oppressive feelings that she could not make sense of.

“Yes, of course, Shadow Weaver.” And she had been dismissed, and she had returned to her room, and she had tried to ignore the empty spaces there. It did not occur to her until she collapsed into her bed that Shadow Weaver had not remarked upon the obvious scratches Catra had left on Adora’s cheek. She had fallen desperately asleep so that she would not have to think about that, or any of the events of that night.

There was no escaping it now, in the dim green light of morning. Catra was gone. The room felt empty. And this time Catra wasn’t just a few corridors away in the cadet’s barracks performing the familiar, comforting routine so that Adora could imagine what she was up to, know that she was close, anytime Adora got overwhelmed. She remembered the only other time they’d been apart, those first few awful weeks as She-Ra:

_Worrying she’d be late to Force Captain Orientation and arriving so early that she had to stand awkwardly in the hallway outside the training room while another meeting finished._

_Catra would be dozing through a lecture on battle tactics._

_Trying for two hours straight to transform into She-Ra in front of Shadow Weaver and failing so badly that Shadow Weaver took the sword, promising to fix it._

_Catra would be in the fight simulators._

_Correction: Catra would be skipping out on the fight simulators to climb somewhere above the smog and stare out at the horizon._

_Lying awake in her new room, chewing her lips raw, wondering how she could have been a princess this whole time, how she could avoid being a volatile monster, how she could bring order to Etheria like this._

_Catra would be curled in their bunk, her sleeping pose gradually expanding over the course of the night until she took up well over half the bed._

It wasn’t like that, now. Whatever Adora was doing, she could only imagine that Catra was somewhere in the woods, alone. Or somewhere in Bright Moon, surrounded by untrustworthy, manipulative princesses.

Adora should feel betrayed, shouldn’t she? Was that the right thing to be feeling in this situation?

She just felt worried.

She paced faster, twitching her fingers to expend some of her nervous energy.

She had lied to Shadow Weaver. She’d never done that before. Thinking about it now made Adora even more nervous, but she didn’t regret it. The feeling was the inverse of that moment with Catra in the Black Garnet chamber – lying to Shadow Weaver was bad, but Adora felt in her bones that it had been a right thing. Why? Everything she had ever been taught to think told her it was wrong, but still, inexplicably, her gut told her that withholding the truth from Shadow Weaver had been the best – the only – thing to do. Shadow Weaver should not be trusted with the truth.

That sounded like something Catra would say… but…

If Catra was right, then Shadow Weaver was wrong, and the Horde was wrong, and Adora was wrong, had _been_ wrong her entire life, and how was that possible, how could the whole world be upside down and backwards, and what about the sword, the sword which sent her dreams, terrifying muddled dreams, but dreams that always had instructions, and if Catra was right, then the sword was wrong, but how could the sword be wrong because the sword felt so right, felt like part of her, an extension of her body, and the woman in the sword spoke to her, and her words felt right, or at least they had those first few times she’d touched the sword, and hadn’t the woman looked a bit different then too, more like a starry beacon than a towering void…

It was too much. Adora doubled over, hands on knees, and stared wide-eyed at her socks. She felt paralyzed, her every muscle tense, joints locked in place. Her jaw was clenched and her teeth ground together. Her thoughts were still spinning, but they were utterly incomprehensible now. She had lost track of her breathing.

She had to snap out of this. She had work to do, troops to lead. She just had to make it through the day – one day – then she could come back to this room and fall apart, just a little, to relieve the pressure.

Only Catra wouldn’t be there to help put her back together.

Adora focused, took a deep breath. The thought of the day, stretching out impossibly before her, made her chest go even tighter.

Maybe Catra would come back. Maybe if Adora kept repeating that thought to herself, her mind would clear and she could function again.

Maybe she would come back. Things would be bad, for a little while, but Adora could keep her from the worst of the punishment, especially if no one but Adora knew that she had tried to defect. And if she didn’t come back…

Adora would convince her. She just had to find her first. Another mission was already in the planning stages; Adora would be traveling outside the Fright Zone soon. Surely she could find a trace of her somewhere. She would find Catra, talk to her – apologize for fighting her, promise to be better – and get her to come home.

Adora straightened and felt her muscles begin to relax as her breathing became more regular. She looked at the sword, cleaned and back in its rack, then looked to the rumpled, empty bed.

“I won’t give up on you, Catra.” Her words hovered in the dim air for a moment before sinking into the corners of the room, where the shadows ate them and grew darker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in Part 2: Shadow Line  
> See you all on the other side of Season 2!


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